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LADIES'    FAMILY    LIBRARY 


VOLUME    1 1 1 . 


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TIHTE  AWW3VKB.SATR1T  «MF  TL,  AVATT  IK  m9  SS  W  1KB  MI'S'  & 


GOOD     WIVES. 


BT 


MRS    D.   L.    CHILD, 
AUTHOR  OF  'HOBOMOK,'  'THE  MOTHER'S  BOOK>' 


Yet,  it  'a  a  Aeartsome  thing  to  be  a  wife. 

Man  Ramsay 


Is  filly  mated,  she  grows  doubly  good, 

How  good  so  e'er  before.  Knowlet. 


BOSTON : 
CARTER, HENDEE  AND  CO. 

AND 

ALLEN    AND    TICKNOR. 

1833. 


ENTERED  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1833. 

BY  CARTER,  HENDEE  &  Co. 
In  the  Clerk's  office  of  the  District  Court  of  Massachusetts. 


PRINTED      BY      f  .      H  .      BUTTS. 


TO 

MY    HUSBAND 

THIS    BOOK 
IS   AFFECTIONATELY    INSCRIBED, 

BY    ONE    WHO,    THROUGH    EVERY    VICISSITUDE, 

HAS    FOUND 

IN    HIS   KINDNESS   AND   WORTH, 
HER    PUREST    HAPPINESS, 

AND 

MOST    CONSTANT    INCENTIVES    TO    DUTY. 


PREFACE. 


IT  was  my  original  intention  to  have  entitled  this 
volume,  The  Wives  of  Distinguished  Men.  But  great 
men  have  sometimes  had  bad  wives  ;  and  I  was  unwill- 
ing to  do  anything  to  save  such  individuals  from  the 
oblivion  they  deserved.  This  decision  was  not  influ- 
enced by  any  wish  to  make  women  appear  better  than 
they  really  are  ;  but  by  the  simple  conviction  that 
such  examples  could  produce  no  salutary  effect. 

Even  the  most  ordinary  writer  has  some  influence 
on  mankind,  and  is  responsible  to  his  God  for  the  use 
he  makes  of  that  influence.  I  may  sin  against  taste  — 
I  may  be  deficient  in  talent —  but  it  shall  ever  be  my 
earnest  endeavor  to  write  nothing,  that  can,  even  in  its 
remotest  tendency,  check  the  progress  of  good  feel- 
ings and  correct  principles. 

The  last  volume  of  the  Ladies'  Family  Library  con- 
tained but  little  original  writing,  This  was  not  the 
result  of  indolence,  or  carelessness  ;  it  was  occasioned 
by  the  nature  of  the  materials.  Lady  Russell's  history 
is  principally  told  in  her  own  excellent  letters ;  and  it 


Vlll  PREFACE. 

would  have  been  preposterous  to  attempt  anything 
better.  Madam  Guyon's  biography  consisted  almost 
entirely  in  successive  states  of  mind,  which  it  was  im- 
possible for  anyone  but  herself  to  describe. 

In  the  present  volume,  I  have  compressed  large 
books  into  a  few  pages,  and  have  quoted  sparingly.  I 
have  freely  written  whatever  was  suggested  to  my 
mind,  neither  seeking  originality,  nor  avoiding  it. 

I  have  been  told  that  I  did  not  moralize  enough,  or 
explain  my  own  opinions  with  sufficient  fulness.  To 
this  I  can  only  answer,  that  I  am  describing  the  minds 
of  others,  not  my  own.  It  seems  to  me  that  the  beau- 
ty of  biography  consists  in  simplicity,  clearness,  and 
brevity.  I  wish  to  give  faithful  portraits  of  individuals, 
and  leave  my  readers  in  freedom  to  analyze  their  ex- 
pression. 

It  will  doubtless  be  observed  that  there  is  not  a  large 
proportion  of  American  wives  in  this  volume.  lean 
recollect  many  of  my  country-women,  who  have  dis- 
charged the  duties  of  this  sacred  relation  in  a  manner 
worthy  of  the  highest  praise.  The  wife  of  Doctor 
Ramsey  was  intelligent  and  highly  cultivated.  She 
educated  her  children,  fitted  her  sons  for  college,  and 
copied  for  her  husband  several  of  his  voluminous 
works.  The  companion  of  the  patriot  Josiah  Quincy 
was  an  excellent  and  noble-spirited  woman,  deserved- 
ly beloved  by  her  husband.  "She  entered  with  ardor 
into  his  political  course,  submitted  cheerfully  to  the 
privations  it  induced,  and  encouraged  him  with  all  her 


PREFACE.  IX 

influence  to  risk  the  perils,  to  which  his  open,  undis- 
guised zeal  in  the  cause  of  his  country,  was  thought 
to  expose  him  and  his  family."  Mrs  John  Adams  was 
a  woman  of  dignified  manners,  kind  feelings,  and  pow- 
erful character  ;  her  influence  over  her  husband  was  so 
great,  that  he  is  said  to  have  been  guided  by  her 
counsels,  when  he  would  listen  to  no  one  else.  But 
such  cases  as  these  furnish  no  details  for  the  biogra- 
pher, or  any  one  strong  point,  on  which  to  found  a  strik- 
ing anecdote.  I  know  that  good  wives  and  excellent 
husbands  abound  in  every  part  of  the  Union  ;  but  it 
must  be  remembered  that  I  could  only  give  a  sketch 
of  those  whose  virtues  were  in  print ;  and  though  there 
exists  among  us  elements  of  female  character,  which, 
in  time  of  need,  would  become  sublime  virtues,  our 
national  career  has  hitherto  been  too  peaceful  and 
prosperous  to  call  them  into  action  in  a  manner  likely 
to  secure  a  place  in  history.  Then  it  must  beellowed 
that  we  inherit  a  large  share  of  English  reserve,  added 
to  that  strong  fear  of  ridicule,  which  is  the  inevitable 
result  of  republican  institutions;  we  are,  therefore, 
rather  shy  of  publicly  expressing  our  attachments  in 
glowing  terms  ;  in  our  distrust  of  French  exaggera- 
tion, we  approach  the  opposite  extreme. 

But  since  domestic  love  and  virtue  really  have  an 
abode  with  us,  it  matters  little  whether  the  world  be 
informed  of  their  full  extent ;  it  is  our  business  to  cher- 
ish, not  to  display  them. 


X  PREFACE. 

The  subject  I  have  chosen,  and  the  scenes  on  which 
I  have  dwelt,  with  such  obvious  heartiness,  will  lay 
me  open  to  the  charge  of  sentiment  and  romance.  It 
is  true  that  I  have  something  of  what  the  world  calls 
by  these  names ;  and  I  shall  probably  retain  it  as  long 
as  I  live.  I  am  more  afraid  of  believing  too  little, 
than  of  believing  too  much,  and  have  no  inclination  to 
sacrifice  happiness  to  philosophy.  In  a  word,  I  like 
superstition  better  than  scepticism,  and  romance  bet- 
ter than  policy. 

If  this  book  convince  one  doubting  individual  that 
there  really  is  such  a  thing  as  constant,  disinterested 
love,  which  misfortune  cannot  intimidate,  or  time  di- 
minish. If  it  teach  one  mistaken  votary  of  ambition 
that  marriage  formed  from  conscientious  motives 
makes  human  life  like  a  serene  sky, "  where  as  fast  as 
one  constellation  sets,  another  rises  ;  "  —  If  it  reveal 
to  one  thoughtless  wife  some  portion  of  the  celestial 
beauty  there  is  in  a  perfect  union  of  duty  and  inclina- 
tion ;  —  If  it  prevent  one  young  heart  from  becoming 
selfish  and  world-worn  ;  —  If  it  make  one  of  the  frivo- 
lous, or  the  profligate,  believe  in  a  holy  affection,  that 
purifies  those  who  indulge  it,  blesses  them  on  earth, 
and  fits  them  to  be  angels  in  heaven  —  then  it  has  not 
been  written  in  vain. 

For  the  sake  of  national  prosperity,  as  well  as  indi- 
vidual happiness,  we  shall  do  well  not  to  forget  these 
lessons. 


PREFACE.  XI 

Religion  and  wedded  love  are  nearly  connected  ; 
and  wheji  one  is  plucked  up  by  the  root,  the  other 
droops  and  withers.  Those  who  disbelieve  in  God, 
sneer  at  marriage.  In  whatever  country  infidelity  rears 
its  hateful  head,  it  leaves  a  blight  and  mildew  on  ev- 
ery bud  and  blossom  of  domestic  affection.  And  what 
a  miserable  thing  is  man,  standing  amid  the  dead 
forms  of  all  his  best  hopes  and  purest  joys,  destroyed 
by  his  own  suicidal  hand  ! 

There  is  one  point  of  view,  in  which  the  prevalence 
of  worldly  ambition  may  affect  our  national  character 
most  powerfully.  If  women  estimate  merit  entirely 
by  wealth,  men  will  obtain  money,  even  at  the  risk  of 
their  souls :  Hence,  dishonorable  competition,  and 
fraudulent  cunning,  and  the  vile  scramble  for  office,  by 
which  true  freedom  has  already  become  well  nigh  suf- 
focated. Popular  institutions,  above  all  others,  afford 
ample  scope  for  disinterested  virtue  ;  but  we  must  re- 
member that  they  likewise  open  the  widest  field  for 
busy,  intriguing  selfishness  ;  the  amount  of  evil  is  al- 
ways in  exact  proportion  to  the  degree  of  good  which 
we  pervert. 

The  actions  and  motives  of  each  individual  do,  more 
or  less,  affect  the  character  and  destinies  of  his  coun- 
try. If,  for  the  sake  of  temporary  indulgence,  we 
yield  to  what  we  know  is  wrong,  we  are  not  only 
closing  the  avenues  by  which  heaven  communicates 


Xll  PREFACE. 

with  our  own  souls,  but  we  are  hastening  those  mighty 
results,  on  which  depend  the  fate  of  governments. 

Men  may  smile  at  these  auguries  —  but  just  as  sure- 
ly as  effects  follow  causes,  the  preponderance  of  selfish 
policy  will  destroy  the  republic  ;  for  in  this  manner, 
ever  since  the  beginning  of  time,  has  glory  passed 
away  from  the  nations.  Neither  the  strength  nor 
the  subtilty  of  man  can  prevail  against  the  jus- 
tice of  God. 

Our  mothers  were  help-mates  indeed ;  and  so  are 
many  of  their  daughters  ;  but  it  is  well  to  be  on  our 
guard,  lest  the  household  virtues  become  neglected 
and  obsolete. 

I  shall  be  asked,  with  a  smile,  Avhat  7  hope  to  do  to 
alter  the  current  of  public  feeling,  and  change  the  hue 
of  national  character?  Truly,  I  expect  to  dobutlittle. 
My  efforts  remind  me  of  a  story  often  repeated  by  a 
valued  friend  :  "  When  I  was  a  small  boy,"  says  he,  "  I 
often  plunged  my  little  hoe  into  a  rushing  and  tumbling 
brook,  on  the  borders  of  my  father's  farm,  —  thinking, 
in  the  childish  simplicity  of  my  heart,  that  I  could  stop 
the  course  of  its  impetuous  waters." 

Gentle  reader,  I  have  put  my  little  garden-hoe  into 
a  mighty  stream  —  and  perchance  the  current  will 
sweep  it  to  oblivion. 

BOSTON,  JAN.  1833. 


CONTENTS. 


Ackland,  Lady 235 

Anna,  Queen 227 

Arria,  wife  of  Foetus 284 

Biron,  Lad)',  wife  of  Sir  John  Biron 40 

Blackwell,  Mrs 173 

Blake,  Mrs 128 

Calphurnia,  wife  of  Pliny 194 

Chelonis,  wife  of  Cleombrotus 191 

Collingwood,  Lady 305 

Dorset,  Countess  of 229 

Eleanor,   Queen 234 

Eponina,  wife  of  Julius  Sahinus 286 

Fanshavve,  Lady 75 

Flaxman,  Mrs 115 

Fletcher,  Mrs 43 

Grotius,  Mrs 157 

Howard,  Mrs 163 

Huber,  Mrs 222 

Huntingdon,  Countess    of 231 

Hutchinson,  Mrs 10 


XIV  ALPHABETICAL    INDEX. 

Johnson,  Lady  Arabella 265 

Judson,  ,  Mrs 245 

Klopstock,  Mrs 197 

Lavater,    Mrs 1 

Lavalette,  Mrs 293 

Lafayette,  Mrs 289 

Luther,    Mrs 134 

Mary,  Queen 226 

Nithsdale,  Countess  of 302 

Oberlin,  Mrs 148 

Panthea,  wife  of  Abradatas 183 

Reidesel,  Baroness 240 

Reiske,  Mrs     277 

Ross,  Mrs 232 

Schiller,  Mrs 306 

Segur,  Countess 292 

Spurzheim 303 

Sybella,  Duchess  of  Normandy 234 

Vender  Wart,  Baroness     176 

West,  Mrs 262 

Wieland,   Mrs 210 

Winthrop.  Mrs 267 


BIOGRAPHIES 


OF 


GOOD     WIVES 


MRS   LAVATER, 

WIFE    OF    JOHN    GASPER    LAVATER. 

THE  celebrated  John  G.  Lavater  was  pastor  of 
St  Peter's  Church,  in  Zurich,  Switzerland.  He 
published  several  volumes  on  religious  subjects, 
and  a  great  many  sermons.  He  had  a  remarkable 
facility  in  writing  poetry  ;  his  verses  were  harmo- 
nious, unaffected,  and  often  vigorous.  But  his 
chief  claim  to  distinction  was  his  famous  essay  on 
Physiognomy,  which  has  been  translated  into  almost 
all  languages.  Lavater  was  a  most  amiable  and 
pleasing  enthusiast.  He  combined  uncommon  pene- 
tration with  a  simplicity  of  character,  that  amount- 
ed almost  to  childlike  credulity  ;  and  the  overflowing 
kindness  of  his  disposition  made  him  universally 
beloved.  He  was  born  in  1741  and  died  in  1801, 
in  consequence  of  a  wound  from  a  French  soldier, 
at  the  taking  of  Zurich.  His  private  journal  will 
best  describe  his  domestic  happiness  : 

"January  2f/.     My  wife  asked  me,  during  din- 
ner, what  sentiment  I   had  chosen  for  the  present 
day.     I  answered,   henceforth,  my  dear,    we  will 
pray  and  read  together  in  the  raorniug,  and  choose 
1 


2  MRS   LAVATER. 

a  common  sentiment  for  the  day.  The  sentiment 
I  have  chosen  for  this  day  is  :  '  Give  to  him  that 
asketh  of  thee,  and  from  him  that  would  borrow  of 
thee,  turn  not  thou  away.'  '  Pray  how  is  this 
to  be  understood  ?'  said  she.  I  replied,  '  Lite- 
rally.' 'That  is  very  strange  indeed!'  answered 
she.  I  said,  with  some  warmth,  '  We  at  least 
must  take  it  so,  my  dear  ;  as  we  would  do,  if  we 
had  heard  Jesus  Christ  himself  pronounce  the 
words,  "  Give  to  him  that  asketh  of  thee,"  says  he, 
whose  property  all  my  possessions  are.  I  am  the 
steward  and  not  the  proprietor  of  my  fortune.'  My 
wife,  merely  replied  that  she  would  take  it  into 
consideration. 

"  I  was  just  risen  from  dinner,  when  a  widow 
desired  to  speak  with  me ;  I  ordered  her  to  be 
shown  into  my  study.  '  My  dear  sir,  I  entreat 
you  to  excuse  me,'  said  she  ;  '  I  must  pay  my 
house-rent,  and  I  am  six  dollars  too  short.  I  have 
been  ill  a  whole  month,  and  could  hardly  keep  my 
poor  children  from  starving.  I  must  have  the  six 
dollars  today  or  tomorrow.  Pray  hear  me,  dear 
sir.'  Here  she  took  a  small  parcel  out  of  her  pocket, 
untied  it,  and  said,  '  There  is  a  book  enchased 
with  silver  ;  my  husband  gave  it  to  me  when  I  was 
betrothed.  It  is  all  I  can  spare  ;  yet  it  will  not  be 
sufficient.  I  part  with  it  with  reluctance,  for  I 
know  not  how  I  shall  redeem  it.  My  dear  sir,  can 
you  assist  me  V  I  answered, '  good  woman,  I  cannot 
assist  you  ;'  so  saying,  I  put  my  hand,  accidentally 
or  from  habit,  into  my  pocket ;  I  had  about  two 


MRSLAVATER.  3 

dollars  and  a  half.  '  That  will  not  be  sufficient,' 
said  I  to  myself;  she  must  have  the  whole  sum  ; 
and  if  it  would  do,  I  want  it  myself.'  I  asked  if 
she  had  no  patron,  or  friend,  who  would  assist  her. 
She  answered,  '  No  ;  not  a  living  soul ;  and  I  will 
rather  work  whole  nights  than  go  from  house  to 
house.  I  have  been  told  you  were  a  kind  gentle- 
man. If  you  cannot  help  me,  I  hope  you  will 
excuse  me  for  giving  you  so  much  trouble.  I  will 
try  how  I  can  extricate  myself.  God  has  never  yet 
forsaken  me ;  and  I  hope  he  will  not  begin  to  turn 
away  from  me  in  my  seventysixth  year.'  My  wife 
entered  the  room.  O  thou  traitorous  heart !  I 
was  angry  and  ashamed.  I  should  have  been  glad 
if  I  could  have  sent  her  away  under  some  pretext 
or  other;  because  my  conscience  whispered  to  me, 
'  Give  to  him  that  oskcth  of  thee,  and  do  not  turn 
away  from  him  who  would  borroio  of  ther..'  My 
wife,  too,  whispered  irresistibly  in  my  ear.  '  She 
is  an  honest,  pious  woman,  and  has  certainly  been 
ill ;  do  assist  her,  if  you  can.'  Shame,  joy,  avarice, 
and  the  desire  of  assisting  her,  struggled  together 
in  my  heart.  I  whispered,  '  I  have  but  two  dollars 
by  me,  and  she  wants  six.  I  will  give  her  something, 
and  send  her  away.'  My  wife,  pressing  my  hand 
with  an  affectionate  smile,  repeated  aloud  what  my 
conscience  had  been  whispering,  '  Give  to  him  who 
askcth  thee,  and  do  not  turn  away  from  him  who 
would  borrow  of  thee.'  I  asked  her  archly,  '  whe- 
ther she  would  give  her  ring  to  enable  me  to  do  it  T 
'  With  great  pleasure,'  she  replied,  pulling  off  her 


4  MRS    LAVATER. 

ring.  The  good  old  woman  was  too  simple  to  ob- 
serve, or  too  modest  to  take  advantage  of  the  action. 
"When  she  was  going,  my  wife  asked  her  to  wait  a 
little  in  the  passage.  '  Were  you  in  earnest,  my 
dear,  when  you  offered  your  ring  ?'  said  I.  '  Indeed 
I  was,'  she  replied  :  '  Do  you  think  I  would  sport 
with  charity?  Remember  what  you  said  to  me  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  ago.  I  entreat  you  not  to  make 
an  ostentation  of  the  gospel.  You  have  always 
been  so  benevolent.  Why  are  you  now  so  back- 
ward to  assist  this  poor  woman  1  Did  you  not  know 
there  are  >ix  dollars  in  your  bureau,  and  it  will  be 
quarter  day  very  soon  V  I  pressed  her  to  my  heart, 
saying,  '  you  are  more  righteous  than  I.  Keep 
your  ring.  I  thank  you.'  I  went  to  the  bureau, 
and  took  the  six  dollars.  I  was  seized  with  horror* 
because  I  had  said,  '  I  cannot  assist  you.'  The 
good  woman  at  first  thought  it  was  only  a  small 
contribution.  When  she  saw  that  it  was  more,  she 
kissed  my  hand,  and  could  not,  at  first,  utter  a  word. 
'How  shall  I  thank  you!'  she  exclaimed:  'Did 
you  understand  me?  I  have  nothing  but  this  book  ; 
and  it  is  old.'  '  Keep  the  book  and  the  money,' 
said  I  hastily  ;  '  and  thank  God,'"not  me.  I  do  not 
deserve  your  thanks,  because  I  so  long  hesitated  to 
help  you.'  I  shut  the  door  after  her,  and  was  so 
much  ashamed  that  I  could  hardly  look  at  my  wife. 
'  My  dear,'  said  she,  '  make  yourself  easy  ;  you 
have  yielded  to  my  wishes.  While  I  wear  a  golden 
ring,  (and  you  know  I  have  several)  you  need  not 
tell  a  fellow -creature  in  distress  that  you  cannot 
assist  him.'  I  folded  her  to  my  heart,  and  wept. 


MRS   LAVATER.  5 

January  23flf,  1769.  "My  servant  asked  me 
after  dinner,  whether  she  should  sweep  my  room. 
I  said,  '  Yes;  but  you  must  not  touch  my  books,  or 
papers.'  I  did  not  speak  with  the  mild  accent  of  a 
good  heart.  A  secret  uneasiness,  and  fear  that  it 
would  occasion  me  vexation,  had  taken  possession 
of  me.  When  she  had  been  gone  some  time,  I 
said  to  my  wife,  '  I  am  afraid  she  will  cause  some 
confusion  up  stairs.'  In  a  few  moments  my  wife, 
with  the  best  intentions,  stole  out  of  the  room,  and 
told  the  servant  to  be  careful.  '  Is  my  room  not 
swept  yet !'  I  exclaimed  at  the  bottom  of  the  stairs. 
Without  waiting  for  an  answer,  I  ran  up  into  my 
room  ;  as  I  entered,  the  girl  overturned  an  inkstand, 
which  was  standing  on  the  shelf.  She  was  much 
terrified  ;  I  called  out  harshly,  '  What  a  stupid 
beast  you  are.  Have  I  not  positively  told  you  to 
be  careful?'  My  wife,  slowly  and  timidly  followed 
me  up  stairs.  Instead  of  being  ashamed,  my  anger 
broke  out  anew.  I  took  no  notice  of  her  ;  running 
to  the  table,  lamenting  and  moaning,  as  if  the  most 
important  writings  had  been  spoiled  ;  though  in 
reality  the  ink  had  touched  nothing  but  a  blank 
sheet,  and  some  blotting  paper.  The  servant 
watched  an  opportunity  to  steal  away,  and  my  wife 
approached  me  with  timid  gentleness.  '  My  dear 
husband  !'  said  she.  I  stared  at  her,  with  vexation 
in  my  looks.  She  embraced  me  —  1  wanted  to  get 
out  of  her  way.  Her  face  rested  on  my  cheek  for 
a  few  moments —  at  last,  with  unspeakable  tender- 
ness, she  said,  '  You  will  hurt  your  health,  my  dear.' 


0  MRSLAVATER. 

1  now  began  to  be  ashamed.     I  was  silent,  and  at 
last  began  to  weep.    '  What  a  miserable  slave  to  my 
temper  I  am  !  I  dare  not  lift  up  my  eyes.     I  cannot 
rid  myself  of  the  dominion  of  that  sinful  passion.' 
My   wife  replied,  '  Consider,  my  dear,  how  many 
days  and  weeks  pass  away,  without  your  being 
overcome   by   anger.     Let   us  pray  together.'     I 
knelt  down  beside  her ;  and  she  prayed  so  naturally, 
so  fervently,   and  so  much  to  the  purpose,  that  I 
thanked  God  sincerely  for  that  hour,  and  for  my 
wife." 

November,  1772.  "My  dear  wife  is  still  very 
ill ;  she  is  however  a  lamb  in  patience  and  good- 
ness ;  full  of  tranquillity  of  mind,  and  without  self- 
will,  reposing  in  the  lap  of  heavenly  love." 

January,  1773.  "  I  awoke  a  little  before  seven 
o'clock,  and  addressed  myself  to  the  paternal  good- 
ness of  God.  I  heard  the  voice  of  my  dear  wife, 
went  to  her,  and  we  blessed  each  other  with  the 
tenderest,  sweetest,  and  most  innocent  affection, 
discoursing  on  the  fate  which,  almost  to  certainty, 
will  befal  us  the  present  year." 

January  6th.  l(  A  bottle  was  overturned  and 
broken  to  pieces.  A  tranquil,  gentle,  smiling  look 
from  my  wife,  restrained  my  rising  anger." 

January  12M.  "  No  one  can  be  more  averse  to 
the  application  of  the  rod  than  T  am  myself.  I 
have  never  chastised  my  son  myself;  fearing  I 
should  do  it  with  too  much  passion,  I  have  always 
left  his  punishment  to  my  more  gentle  wife.  My 
child  has  the  best  of  hearts,  yet  he  sometimes  needs 


MRS    LAVATER.  7 

the  rod.  The  advice  to  leave  children  to  the  bad 
consequences  of  their  actions  looks  very  specious 
on  paper  ;  but  whoever  has  the  care  of  children 
will  know  that,  among  a  thousand  cases,  this  is 
scarcely  possible  in  one  instance.  For  instance, 
it  is  impossible  always  to  remove  scissors  and  pen- 
knives from  the  table  ;  and  if  it  were  possible,  I 
would  not  do  it.  External  circumstances  shall  not 
accommodate  themselves  to  my  children  ;  on  the 
contrary  my  children  must  learn  to  accommodate 
themselves  to  circumstances.  They  shall  not  learn 
not  to  touch  a  penknife  where  there  is  none  ;  but 
they  must  learn  not  to  touch  one  where  there 
are  ten.  If  my  child  disobey  me,  I  give  him  a 
slap  on  the  hand  ;  which,  however  hard  it  may  be, 
is,  after  all,  less  than  the  least  hurt  he  might 
receive  by  handling  the  penknife.  I  would  glad- 
ly leave  him  to  the  consequences  of  his  disobe- 
dience, but  what  if  he  should  put  out  an  eye,  or 
disable  a  hand  !  I  lately  found  a  razor  full  of 
notches,  and  was  going  to  put  myself  in  a  passion  ; 
but  I  pacified  myself  instantly.  I  asked,  in  a  se- 
rious tone,  '  My  son,  have  you  had  this  razor  ?' 
'  Yes,  papa.'  —  I  have  nothing  more  at  heart  than 
that  my  child  should  never  tell  lies ;  I  therefore 
said,  '  I  shall  not  punish  you  this  time,  because 
you  have  readily  told  me  the  truth.'  Children 
will  certainly  never  tell  lies  except  from  fear  of 
punishment." 

January  l%th.     "  I  spoke  with  my  wife  of  our 
children,     I  said  '  I  have  a  presentiment  that  they 


8  MRS    LAVATER. 

will  not  grow  old,  though  they  are  in  general 
very  healthy.'  It  gave  me  great  satisfaction  to 
hear  her  reply,  with  much  resignation,  '  The  will 
of  the  Lord  be  done.  Thank  God  !  they  have  not 
been  created  in  vain.  They  are  our  children,  and 
the  children  of  their  Heavenly  Father,  whether 
they  live  or  die.'  " 

January  \Stli.  "  When  I  was  called  to  breakfast, 
the  beautiful  group,  which  had  assembled  almost 
moved  me  to  tears.  My  dear  wife  was  in  the  bed  ; 
little  Henry  at  her  left  hand,  and  Nannette  on 
her  foot-stool  upon  two  chairs  before  the  bed. 
She  was  giving  them  their  soup.  I  took  a  pencil, 
and  sketched  that  family  scene  on  paper.  My  wife 
said,  smiling,  '  You  forget  one  person  that  belongs 
to  the  group,  and  is  sharing  our  pleasure.'  My  joy 
was  complete.  God  bless  you,  darlings  of  my 
heart,  God  bless  you  !  I  tried  to  imprint  this  scene 
indelibly  on  my  mind.  Such  things  are  so  extremely 
sweet  in  recollection." 

January  3Qtk.  "  My  dear  wife  was  not  well. 
Only  a  god-like  patience  could  bear  what  she  en- 
dures. My  little  Nannette  shouted  when  I  entered 
the  room.  The  little,  innocent,  lovely  child  !  I 
was  obliged  to  struggle  against  my  wish  to  take 
her,  lest  I  should  lose  time.  I  wrote  a  little  while, 
but  could  resist  no  longer.  I  took  her  up  and  car- 
ried her  to  her  mother  and  brother.  Some  trifles 
vexed  me.  My  wife  observed  it,  and  silently  gave 
me  her  hand.  '  I  witlbe  good,'  said  I,  with  a  filial 
voice  ;  and  my  serenity  returned." 


MRS    LAVATER.  9 

June  3^7.  "  My  wife  waked  me,  saying,  'It  is 
seven  years  today  since  we  were  married.'  I  told 
her  it  should  be  celebrated  by  a  little  festival  for 
the  children. 

"  Some  things  that  detained  me  in  the  morning, 
tempted  me  to  grow  impatient,  because  I  wanted 
to  have  a  little  pleasure  with  my  family.  At  length, 
I  was  at  liberty  to  do  so.  We  went  to  the  apart- 
ment where  my  wife  and  I  had  first  knelt  together 
in  prayer  ;  we  recalled  to  memory  all  the  particu- 
lars of  our  wedding  day,  running  over  the  seven 
years  which,  notwithstanding  all  our  trials,  we  had 
spent  so  happily.  We  related  to  our  boy  how  we 
had  been  united,  and  he  listened  with  much  interest, 
which  filled  our  hearts  with  pleasure.  We  gather- 
ed all  the  flowers  we  could  find,  strewing  some  of 
them  on  the  lap  of  Nannette,  whom  I  pushed  for- 
ward iu  her  little  carriage,  while  Henry,  whose 
hair  I  adorned  with  the  rest,  was  drawing  the 
vehicle.  Their  precious  mother  looked  on  with 
pleasure.  I  ordered  Henry  to  be  dressed  in  his 
Sunday  garments,  and  read  to  him  a  little  song, 
which,  notwithstanding  I  had  composed  it  in  a 
great  hurry,  drew  a  pearly  tear  of  joy  from  his 
mother's  eyes.  I  left  the  happy  circle  with  reluc- 
tance." 


MRS  LUCY  HUTCHINSON, 

WIFE  OF  COLONEL  HUTCHINSON. 

MRS  LUCY  HUTCHINSON  was  the  daughter  of  Sir 
Allen  Apsley,  Lieutenant  of  the  Tower  of  London, 
during  the  reign  of  Charles  the  First.  In  the  me- 
moir of  her  husband  she  praises  highly  the  integ- 
rity, benevolence,  and  mutual  affection  of  her  pa- 
rents. Among  many  instances  of  their  kindness, 
she  tells  us,  "  When  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  and  Mr 
Ruthin  were  prisoners  in  the  Tower,  my  mother 
suffered  them  to  make  rare  experiments  in  chemistry 
at  her  cost ;  partly  to  comfort  and  divert  the  poor 
prisoners,  and  partly  to  gain  the  knowledge  of  their 
experiments,  and  the  medicines,  to  help  such  poor 
people  as  were  not  able  to  procure  physicians.  By 
these  means  she  acquired  a  great  deal  of  skill, 
which  was  profitable  to  many  all  her  life.  To  all 
the  prisoners  that  came  into  the  Tower  she  was  as 
rt  mother.  If  any  were  sick,  she  visited  and  took 
care  of  them,  and  made  them  broths  and  restora- 
tives with  her  own  hands." 

Her  father  had  a  very  decided  dislike  for  those 
gay  young  gentlemen,  who  merely  know  how  to 


MRS    HUTCHINSON.  11 

court  the  ladies,  and  study  the  fashion  of  their 
dress ;  he  considered  usefulness  and  learning  as 
the  true  tests  of  respectability.  From  these  intel- 
ligent, judicious,  and  thoroughly  well-bred  parents, 
Lucy  Apsley  probably  derived  the  sedate,  and 
somewhat  matronly  character,  by  which  she  was 
early  distinguished.  As  her  mother  had  several 
sons,  and  earnestly  desired  to  have  a  daughter, 
her  birth  was  an  event  of  great  joy  ;  and  the  na- 
tural fondness  inspired  by  the  helpless  little  inno- 
cent was  increased  by  the  superstitious  nurse,  who 
pronounced  her  to  be  too  delicate  and  beautiful  to 
live.  Something  of  additional  importance  was  like- 
wise ascribed  to  her,  because  previous  to  her  birth 
her  mother  dreamed  that  a  star  descended  from  the 
heavens  and  rested  in  her  hand.  She  was  indeed 
lovely  and  remarkably  intelligent,  and  her  parents 
spared  no  pains  in  cultivating  the  intellectual  facul- 
ties, with  which  she  was  endowed.  As  her  nurse 
was  a  Frenchwoman,  she  learned  to  speak  French 
and  English  at  the  same  time.  At  four  years  old, 
she  read  perfectly  well ;  and  her  memory  was  so 
great,  that  she  could  repeat  almost  exactly  the  ser- 
mons she  heard.  At  seven  years  of  age,  she  Jiad 
eight  tutors,  in  languages,  music,  dancing,  wri- 
ting, and  needlework ;  but  study  was  the  only 
thing  she  really  loved  ;  and  she  pursued  it  with  a 
degree  of  eagerness,  that  threatened  to  be  prejudi- 
cial to  her  health.  In  Latin,  she  outstripped  her 
brothers,  although  they  were  very  clever,  and  ex- 
ceedingly industrious.  For  female  employments 


12  MRS    II  UTCHINSON. 

and  elegant  accomplishments,  she  had  less  taste 
than  her  mother  wished ;  and  she  held  the  usual 
sports  of  children  in  great  contempt.  She  says, 
"  When  I  was  obliged  to  entertain  such  children 
as  came  to  visit  me,  I  tired  them  with  more  grave 
instructions  than  their  mothers,  and  plucked  all 
their  babies  to  pieces,  and  kept  them  in  such  awe, 
that  they  were  glad  when  I  entertained  myself  with 
older  company."  From  her  mother's  instructions 
she  derived  strong  religious  feelings  and  principles, 
which  continued  with  her  through  life.  When 
very  young,  this  miniature  woman  used  to  employ 
a  portion  of  every  Lord's  day  in  exhorting  the 
domestics  of  the  family  upon  serious  subjects.  It 
seems,  however,  that  she  was  not  entirely  destitute 
of  the  feelings  and  habits  usually  observable  in 
youth  ;  for  she  says,  "  I  was  not  at  that  time  con- 
vinced of  the  vanity  of  much  conversation  not 
scandalously  wicked  ;  I  thought  it  no  sin  to  learn 
or  hear  witty  songs,  amorous  poems  and  twenty 
other  things  of  that  kind  ;  wherein  I  was  so  apt, 
that  I  became  a  confidant  in  all  the  loves  that 
were  managed  by  my  mother's  young  women.'  She 
even  alludes  to  an  unequal,  but  transient  attach- 
ment, as  among  the"  extravagances  of  her  youth." 
*  *  *  *  *  *  Colonel 

John  Ilutchinson,  whom  this  young  lady  afterward 
married,  was  the  son   of  Sir  Thomas  Ilutchinson, 
and   Lady  Margaret,  daughter    of  Sir   John  Biron 
of  Newstead,  one  of  the  ancestors  of  Lord  Byron 
He   is  represented   as   a   gentleman   of   graceful 


MRS  H  UTCHIflSON.  13 

person,  highly  cultivated  mind,  and  very  prepos- 
sessing  manners  ;  and  as   he  was  the  eldest  sur- 
viving  son  of  his  father,   he   was  a  match  alike 
desirable  to  mothers    and   daughters.     He  passed 
through  the  usual  routine  of  education  prescribed 
for  gentlemen  of  that  period,  and  was  distinguish- 
ed for  his  literary  attainments,  his   skill  in  active 
and  graceful    exercises,  and    his  very  correct  taste 
in  music.     Soon  after  he  left  the  university,  he  de- 
termined to  travel  in  France  ;  and   as  some  delay 
occurred  in   forming  the  necessary  arrangements, 
he  was  advised  to  make  a  short  visit  to  Richmond, 
where   the   prince   at   that    time    held    his  court. 
Crowds  of  gay  company  were,  of  course,  attracted 
to  the  place,  and  a  young  gentleman  of  Mr  Hutch- 
inson's   pretensions  received   abundant   attentions 
from  the  wealthy,  the  witty,  and  the  beautiful.     It 
chanced    that    Sir  Allen   Apsley  had    a    daughter 
placed  at    Richmond,  for  the  purpose  of  acquiring 
skill  in    music.     This   child  was   born    five   years 
after   her   serious   sister    Lucy,    and    being  of  an 
active  and  playful  disposition,  was  the   general  fa- 
vorite of  the  family.     Mr  Hutchinson  took  particu- 
lar delight  in  her  sprightly  conversation  and  lively 
music.     The  little  girl  had   the  keys  of  her  moth- 
er's  house,   which  was  about  half  a  mile    distant, 
and  once  or   twice,  when  she  had    occasion  to  go 
there,  she  asked  Mr  Hutchinson  to  accompany  her. 
One    day,    while    he  was   there,  he    found  a    few 
Latin  books  on  an   old    shelf,  and  when  he    asked 
whose  they  were,   he  was   informed  that  they  be- 


14  MRS    HUTCH1NSON. 

longed  to  her  elder  sister,  who  was  about  to  be 
married,  and  had  gone  into  Wiltshire  with  her 
mother,  in  order  to  complete  some  necessary  ar- 
rangements. Mr  Hutchinson  had  a  contempt  for 
frivolous  conversation  and  unmeaning  gallantry, 
and  the  ladies  thought  him  rather  indifferent  to 
their  charms.  But  it  so  happened  that  his  curiosity 
was  greatly  excited  concerning  Miss  Lucy  Apsley  ; 
and  the  more  questions  he  asked,  the  more  he  re- 
gretted that  he  had  never  seen  her,  and  that  she 
had  gone  away  on  such  an  errand.  The  ladies  of 
her  acquaintance  told  him  how  very  studious  and 
reserved  she  was  ;  adding  several  anecdotes,  which 
they  thought  would  redound  to  her  disadvantage; 
but  Mr  Hutchinson  had  a  great  respect  for  good 
sense  and  information  in  women,  and  the  stories 
they  told  produced  a  different  effect  from  what 
they  intended.  He  lost  no  opportunity  of  talking 
about  the  lady  ;  and  began  to  wonder  at  himself 
that  his  heart,  which  had  heretofore  kept  so  cool, 
should  now  be  so  much  interested  in  a  stranger. 
His  wife,  speaking  of  this  circumstance  in  his 
memoir,  says,  "  Certainly  it  was  of  the  Lord,  who 
had  ordained  him,  through  so  many  providences, 
to  be  yoked  with  her  in  whom  he  found  so  much 
satisfaction." 

One  day,  when  there  was  a  great  deal  of  com- 
pany at  the  house,  some  one  sung  a  song,  which 
was  much  admired.  A  gentleman  present  observ- 
ed it  was  written  by  a  lady  in  the  neighborhood. 
Mr  Hutchinson,  "  fancying  something  of  rational- 


MRS  HUTCHINSON.  15 

ity  in  the  sonnet,  beyond  the  customary  reach  of  a 
she-wit,  said  he  could  scarcely  believe  it  was  a 
woman's."  The  gentleman  asserted  that  the 
verses  were  written  by  Miss  Lucy  Apsley ;  and 
being  a  great  admirer  of  the  author,  he  was  very 
enthusiastic  in  her  praises.  Upon  this,  Mr  Hutchin- 
son  said,  "  I  cannot  rest  until  this  lady  returns. 
I  must  be  acquainted  with  her."  His  informant 
replied,  "  You  must  not  expect  that,  sir.  She  will 
not  be  acquainted  with  gentlemen.  However 
this  song  may  have  stolen  forth,  she  is  extremely 
unwilling  to  have  her  perfections  known.  She 
lives  only  in  the  enjoyment  of  herself,  and  has  not 
the  humanity  to  communicate  that  happiness  to  any 
of  our  sex.'' 

The  information  of  this  reserved  humor  pleased 
Mr  Hutchinson  more  than  all  he  had  heard  ;  and 
his  thoughts  became  completely  occupied  with  the 
hopes  of  seeing  her.  At  last,  news  was  brought 
that  Mrs  Apsley  and  her  daughter  would  return  in 
a  few  days.  The  messenger  had  some  bride  laces 
in  his  pocket,  and,  for  the  sake  of  fun,  he  allowed 
the  company  to  suppose  the  young  lady  was  mar- 
ried. Mr  Hutchinson  became  very  pale,  and  was 
obliged  to  leave  the  room.  He  began  to  think 
there  was  some  magic  in  the  place,  which  enchant- 
ed men  out  of  their  right  senses.  His  affection- 
ate biographer  says,  "  But  it  booted  him  not  to  be 
angry  at  himself,  or  to  set  wisdom  in  her  reproving 
chair,  or  reason  in  her  throne  of  council  ;  the  sick 
heart  could  not  be  chid,  or  advised  into  health." 


16  MRS    HUTCHINSON. 

The  next  day  it  was  ascertained  that  the  tidings 
of  her  marriage  was  a  mere  hoax  ;  and  as  soon 
as  she  arrived,  Mr  Hutchinson,  under  the  pre- 
tence of  escorting  her  little  sister,  went  to  her 
father's  house,  and  obtained  a  sight  of  the  being 
who  had  so  much  occupied  his  thoughts.  Judging 
from  the  engraved  portrait  of  Mrs  Hutchinson, 
she  must  have  been  eminently  beautiful.  At  all 
events,  the  eager  lover  was  not  disappointed  in  her 
appearance  ;  and  she,  at  first  sight,  was  "  surprised 
with  an  unusual  liking  in  her  soul  for  a  gentleman, 
whose  countenance  and  graceful  mien,  promised 
an  extraordinary  person." 

At  their  first  interview,  there  was  something  of 
melancholy  negligence  about  her;  for  her  parents, 
displeased  that  she  had  refused  several  advanta- 
geous offers,  had  urged  her  to  a  marriage  for  which 
her  heart  had  no  inclination.  From  a  sense  of 
duty,  she  tried  to  bring  her  feelings  to  their  wishes  ; 
but  was  finally  obliged  to  confess  that  she  could 
not,  without  destruction  to  her  happiness.  Mr 
Hutchinson,  being  informed  of  these  circum- 
stances, and  finding  her  willing  to  encourage  his 
acquaintance,  believed  that  the  same  secret  power 
had  given  them  a  mutual  inclination  for  each  other. 
He  visited  her  father's  house  daily  ;  and  she  was 
often  his  companion  in  the  pleasant  walks  proposed 
by  the  family  in  the  sweet  spring  season,  then  ad- 
vancing. 

The  ladies  were  a    little  piqued  at  Mr  Ilutchin- 
son's  preference.     With    the    usual  petulance   of 


MRS   HUTCH1NSON.  17 

narrow  minds,  they  ridiculed  those  high  qualities, 
which  they  could  not  comprehend,  and  magnified 
such  little  defects  as  were  nearer  on  a  level  with 
their  own  habits  of  thought ;  her  neglect  of  orna- 
ment in  her  dress,  and  her  love  of  study  were  the 
constant  themes  of  their  animadversion.  Mr 
Hutchinson  smiled,  and  sometimes  mixed  a  little 
good-natured  sarcasm  with  his  answers.  He  was 
successful  in  his  love,  and  was  therefore  too  happy 
to  be  angry. 

His  wife  says,  "  I  shall  pass  by  all  the  little 
amorous  relations,  which  if  I  would  take  pains  to 
relate,  would  make  a  true  history  of  a  more  hand- 
some management  of  love  than  the  best  romances 
describe  ;  but  these  are  to  be  forgotten  as  the  vani- 
ties of  youth,  not  worthy  to  be  mentioned  among 
the  greater  transactions  of  his  life.  It  is  only  to 
be  recorded  that  never  was  passion  more  ardent, 
and  less  idolatrous.  He  loved  her  better  than  his 
life,  with  inexpressible  tenderness  and  kindness  ; 
had  a  most  high,  obliging  esteem  for  her  ;  yet  still 
considered  honor,  religion,  and  virtue,  above  her  ; 
nor  ever  suffered  the  intrusion  of  such  a  dotage, 
as  should  blind  him  to  her  imperfections :  these  he 
looked  upon  with  such  an  indulgent  eye,  as  did  not 
abate  his  love  and  esteem  for  her,  while  it  au<r- 

7  O 

mented  his  care  to  blot  out  all  those  spots,  which 
might  make  her  appear  less  worthy  of  the  respect 
he  paid  her ;  and  thus  indeed  he  soon  made  her 
more  equal  to  him  than  he  found  her. 

It  was  not   her  face  that  he   loved  ;  her  virtues 
2 


18  MRS     HUTCHINSON. 

were  his  mistress;  and  these  like  Pygmalion's 
statue,  were  of  his  own  making  ;  for  he  polished 
and  gave  form  to  what  he  found  with  all  the  rough- 
ness of  the  quarry  about  it ;  but  meeting  with  a 
compliant  subject  for  his  own  wise  government, 
he  found  as  much  satisfaction  as  he  gave,  and 
never  had  occasion  to  number  his  marriage  among 
his  infelicities.  The  day  that  the  friends,  on  both 
sides,  met  to  conclude  the  marriage,  she  fell  ill  of 
the  small  pox  ;  her  life  was  in  desperate  hazard, 
and  for  a  long  time  the  disease  made  her  the  most 
deformed  person  that  could  be  seen ;  yet  he  was 
nothing  troubled  about  it,  but  married  her  as  soon 
as  she  was  able  to  quit  the  chamber,  when  the 
priest  and  all  that  saw  her  were  affrighted  to  look 
on  her  ;  but  God  recompensed  his  justice  and  con- 
stancy by  her  entire  recovery.  One  thing  is 
worthy  of  imitation  in  him  ;  though  he  had  as 
strong  an  affection  for  her  as  ever  man  had,  he  did 
not  declare  it,  till  he  had  first  acquainted  his  father  ; 
and  after  that  he  would  make  no  engagement  but 
what  his  love  and  honor  bound  him  in  ;  wherein 
he  was  more  firm,  than  all  the  oaths  in  the  world 
could  have  made  him,  notwithstanding  many  pow- 
erful temptations  of  wealth  and  beauty  ;  for  his 
father,  before  he  knew  his  son's  inclinations,  had 
concluded  another  treaty  for  him,  much  more  ad- 
vantageous to  his  family,  and  worthy  of  his 
liking.  The  parent  was  as  honorably  indulgent  to 
his  affection,  as  the  son  was  strict  in  the  observance 
of  his  duty;  and  at  length,  after  about  fourteen 


MRS   HUTCHINSON.  19 

months'  various  exercise  of  his  mind  in  the  pursuit 
of  his  love,  the  thing  was  accomplished,  to  the  full 
content  of  all :  on  the  third  day  of  July,  he  was 
married  to  Miss  Lucy  Apsley,  at  St  Andrews 
church,  in  Holborne."  He  was  twentythree  years 
of  age,  and  she  was  eighteen. 

For  two  years  after  this  union,  Mr  Ilutchinson 
enjoyed  the  dignified  retirement  of  an  English 
country-gentleman ;  and  as  religious  controversy 
at  that  time  interested  the  whole  nation,  the  study 
of  theology  was  largely  mingled  with  his  literary 
pursuits. 

At  first  they  resided  about  ten  miles  from  Lon- 
don, to  which  Mrs  Hutchinson's  habits  and  early 
associations  rendered  her  extremely  attached. 
But  their  two  oldest  sons  were  twins  ;  and  as  the 
family  increased  rapidly,  it  was  deemed  expedient 
to  remove  to  a  cheaper  part  of  the  country.  They 
therefore  retired  to  his  estate  in  Owthorpe,  Notting- 
hamshire. 

Here  they  had  not  long  remained  before  the 
discord  of  civil  war,  which  had  long  been  heard  in 
the  distance,  sounded  its  fearful  alarm  through  the 
land.  The  dreadful  massacres  of  Ireland  in  1641 
aroused  Mr  Ilutchinson  to  the  state  of  public 
affairs.  He  entered  warmly  into  the  disputes  ex- 
isting between  the  King  and  Parliament ;  but 
while  he  zealously  maintained  the  pretensions  of 
the  latter,  he  had  an  earnest  desire  that  bloodshed 
should  be  avoided,  if  possible.  Public  opinion  in 
England  was  then  strongly,  not  to  say  fiercelv,  di- 


20  MRS    HUTCHINSON. 

rected  against  popery.  Mr  Hutchinson's  first 
manifestation  of  party  spirit  was  to  persuade  the 
clergyman  to  deface  the  images,  and  break  the 
painted  windows  of  the  parish  church,  in  obedience 
to  the  orders  of  parliament.  His  next  step  was 
to  prevent  ammunition  from  being  carried  out  of 
the  county  for  the  use  of  the  king  ;  and  he  con- 
ducted this  affair  with  a  degree  of  firmness,  moder- 
ation, and  courtesy,  not  a  little  remarkable  in 
an  enthusiastic  partisan  about  twentyfive  years  old. 

Such  open  demonstration  of  his  political  opin- 
ions, of  course,  made  him  an  object  of  suspicion  to 
the  Royalists,  and  various  attempts  were  made  to 
seize  his  person.  When  the  Parliament  collected 
forces  under  the  command  of  Lord  Essex,  he 
joined  the  army ;  and  having  resolved  to  defend 
the  town  and  castle  of  Nottingham  against  the 
King's  troops,  he  was  chosen  governor  of  that 
place.  His  wife  followed  him,  sharing  all  his 
counsels  and  his  dangers. 

The  preservation  of  Nottingham  was  of  great 
importance  to  the  Parliament ;  for  if  the  enemy  had 
possessed  themselves  of  it,  all  communication  be- 
tween the  northern  and  southern  parts  of  the  king- 
dom would  have  been  cut  off.  The  undertaking 
was  hazardous  ;  for  the  inhabitants  of  the  town 
were  more  than  half  favorable  to  the  royal  cause  ; 
the  parliamentary  army  was  too  distant  to  give 
prompt  relief  in  case  of  necessity ;  and  the  half 
ruined  castle  was  badly  fortified,  and  worse  pro- 
vided, for  a  siege.  Mrs  Hutchinson  says,  "  Nothing 


MRS   HUTCHINSON.  21 

but  an  invincible  courage,  and  a  passionate  zeal 
for  the  interests  of  God  and  his  country,  could 
have  engaged  my  husband  in  a  work  of  so  much 
difficulty.  His  superior  officer  contented  himself 
with  the  name  of  authority,  and  left  Mr  Hutchin- 
son  to  order  all  things  ;  the  glory  of  which  he 
hoped  to  assume,  if  they  succeeded,  and  if  they 
failed,  he  thought  to  throw  the  blame  upon  him 
who  contrived  them.  Mr  Hutchinson  knew  all 
this;  yet  he  was  so  well  persuaded  that  God  called 
him  to  undertake  a  defence  of  this  place,  that  he 
cast  by  all  other  considerations,  and  cheerfully  re- 
signed his  interests  and  his  life  to  God's  disposal ; 
though  in  all  human  probability  he  was  more  likely 
to  lose  than  to  save  them." 

Besides  the  unavoidable  perils  of  his  situation, 
Colonel  Hutchinson  had  to  contend  with  the  vari- 
ous feuds  and  petty  dissensions  constantly  arising 
among  the  officers  ;  the  insolence,  cunning,  and 
hatred  of  the  royalists  in  the  town ;  and  the  ob- 
stinate fanaticism  of  his  own  party,  who  were  "  so 
pragmatical,  that  no  act,  and  scarcely  a  word,  could 
pass  without  being  strictly  arraigned  and  judged 
at  the  bar  of  every  common  soldier's  discretion, 
and  thereafter  censured  and  exclaimed  at." 

Though  Coloixel  Hutchinson  may  seem,  to  read- 
ers of  the  present  day,  quite  rigid  enough  in  his 
opinions,  he  could  not  go  to  all  the  lengths,  which 
some  of  his  austere  companions  considered  neces- 
sary for  sound  doctrine;  and  there  was  a  noble 
frankness  in  his  nature,  that  forbade  hypocritical 


22  MRS    HUTCH  IN  SON. 

compliance  with  absurd  opinions,  or  unimportant 
forms. 

"  Among  other  affected  habits  of  the  Puritans, 
few  of  them  wore  hair  long  enough  to  cover  their 
ears,  and  many  cut  it  very  close  around  their 
heads,  with  so  many  little  peaks,  as  was  something 
ridiculous  to  behold.  From  this  circumstance,  the 
name  of  Roundhead  was  scornfully  given  to  the 
whole  parliament  party.  It  was  very  ill  applied  to 
Mr  Hutchinson,  who  had  a  fine  head  of  curling 
hair,  and  wore  it  in  a  becoming  manner.  The 
godly  of  those  days  would  not  allow  him  to  be  re- 
ligious, because  his  hair  was  not  in  their  cut,  or 
his  words  in  their  phrase.  Many  of  them  were 
weak  enough  to  esteem  such  insignificant  circum- 
stances as  of  more  consequence  than  solid  wisdom, 
piety,  and  courage,  which  brought  real  aid  and 
honor  to  their  party.  But  as  Mr  Hutchinson  chose 
not  them,  but  the  God  they  served,  and  the  truth 
they  defended,  their  weakness,  ingratitude  and 
censures,  with  which  he  was  abundantly  exercised 
all  his  life,  never  tempted  him  to  forsake  them  in 
anything  wherein  they  adhered  to  just  and  hon- 
orable principles." 

In  addition  to  the  difficulties  with  which  Mrs 
Hutchinson  was  surrounded,  it  happened,  amid  the 
inevitable  horrors  of  civil  war,  that  her  brother,  Sir 
Allen  Apsley,  commanded  a  troop  of  horse  in  the 
king's  service,  and  was  frequently  on  duty  in  the 
same  part  of  the  country  where  her  husband  was 
fighting  for  the  Parliament.  It  is,  however,  to  the 


MRS    HUTCHINSON.  23 

honor  of  the  English  people,  that  this  civil  contest 
was  carried  on  for  years  with  few  instances  of  per- 
sonal violence. 

The  Puritan  Colonel  lived  on  very  cordial  terms 
with  his  Cavalier  brother-in-law.  Protected  by 
mutual  passes,  they  often  visited  each  other,  and 
exchanged  various  civilities,  without  any  attempt, 
on  either  side,  to  persuade  the  other  from  the  per- 
formance of  what  he  considered  his  duty. 

During  this  trying  period,  when  her  husband  was 
endangered  by  treachery  within  the  castle,  and 
warfare  without,  Mrs  Hutchinson  behaved  most 
admirably.  Shut  up  with  him  in  the  garrison,  she 
enlivened  him  by  her  cheerful  fortitude,  soothed 
him  with  her  tenderness,  and  assisted  him  by  her 
advice.  Her  heroism  and  energy  encouraged  the 
troops ;  and  she  herself  attended  upon  the  sick, 
and  dressed  the  wounds  of  the  sufferers,  both  cap- 
tives and  conquerors. 

Her  eldest  daughter  died  in  Nottingham  Castle  ; 
being  a  weakly  child,  in  consequence  of  the  fa- 
tigue and  anxiety  her  mother  had  undergone. 

In  the  description  of  this  ancient  castle  there  arc 
some  particulars,  which  possess  historical  interest. 
"  It  was  built  upon  a  high  rock,  overlooking  the 
chief  streets  of  the  town.  Nature  had  made  it 
capable  of  very  strong  fortification,  but  the  build- 
ings were  ruinous  and  uninhabitable.  Upon  the  top 
of  all  the  rock  was  a  strong  tower,  which  they 
called  tl^e  Old  Tower.  This  was  the  place  where 
Queen  Isabel,  mother  of  Edward  the  Third,  was  sur- 


24  MRS    II  UTCHINSON. 

prised  with  her  paramour  Mortimer ;  who,  by 
secret  windings  and  hollows  in  the  rock,  came  up 
into  her  chamber  from  the  meadows  below.  At 
the  entrance  of  this  rock  was  a  spring,  which  is 
called  Mortimer's  well,  and  the  cavern,  Mortimer's 
hole. 

"  Behind  the  castle,  was  a  place  called  the  Park  ; 
but  then  it  had  neither  deer  nor  trees,  except  one, 
which  was  almost  a  prodigy  ;  for  from  the  root  to 
the  top  there  was  not  one  straight  twig  or  branch  ; 
some  said  it  was  planted  by  Richard  the  Third, 
and  resembled  him  that  set  it. 

"  There  were  many  large  caverns,  in  which  a 
great  magazine  and  hundreds  of  soldiers  might 
have  been  disposed,  and  kept  secure  from  any  dan- 
ger of  firing  the  powder  by  mortar-pieces  shot 
against  the  castle.  In  one  of  these  places,  it  is 
said  that  David,  a  Scotch  king,  was  kept  in  cruel 
durance,  and  with  his  nails  scratched  on  the  walls 
the  history  of  Christ  and  his  twelve  apostles." 

Sir  Richard  Biron,  the  relative  of  Col.  Hutch- 
inson,  sent  a  messenger  to  persuade  him  to  leave 
Nottingham,  on  the  plea  that  holding  out  a 
castle  against  his  king  was  rebellion  of  so  high  a 
nature,  that  no  favor  could  be  expected,  however 
earnestly  his  friends  among  the  royalists  might 
urge  it ;  but  that  if  he  would  return  to  obedience, 
he  might  not  only  save  his  forfeited  estates,  but 
have  whatever  reward  he  pleased  to  propose  :  to 
which  Colonel  Hutchinson  replied  that  "  he  had  too 
much  Biron  blood  in  his  heart  to  betray  or  quit  a 


MRS    HUTCHINSON.  25 

trust  he  had  undertaken  ;  and  that  he  scorned  to 
sell  his  faith  for  base  rewards,  or  the  fear  of  losing 
his  estate,  which  his  wife  was  quite  as  willing  as 
himself  to  part  with." 

Colonel  Hutchinson  remained  in  this  garrison 
until  the  close  of  the  war  ;  at  which  time  his  health 
and  strength  were  much  impaired  by  the  hard- 
ships to  which  he  had  been  exposed.  On  arriving 
at  his  deserted  house  in  Owthorpe,  he  found  it  in  a 
most  ruinous  and  desolate  situation  ;  the  neighbor- 
ing garrisons  having  robbed  it  of  everything  that 
could  be  carried  away  :  and  the  debts  he  had  in- 
curred in  the  service  of  the  public,  deprived  him  of 
the  power  of  making  necessary  repairs.  This 
state  of  things  was  peculiarly  uncomfortable,  be- 
cause he  was  at  that  time  afflicted  with  the  gout, 
and  often  unable  to  leave  his  chamber  for  weeks 
His  wife  says:  "  Here  we  had  a  notable  example 
of  the  victorious  power  of  his  soul  over  his  body. 
One  day,  when  he  was  in  the  saddest  torture  of 
his  disease,  certain  soldiers  came  and  insolently 
demanded  money  and  provisions  in  the  town.  He 
sent  for  them  and  told  them  he  would  not  suffer 
such  wrong  to  be  done  to  his  tenants.  Seeing 
him  in  a  weak  condition,  they  became  saucy,  and 
told  him  he  had  no  longer  a  right  to  command  them. 
Being  heartily  angry,  he  felt  not  that  he  was  sick, 
but  started  out  of  his  chair,  and  beat  them  from  the 
house  and  the  town  ;  and  returned  laughing  at  the 
wretched  fellows  and  himself,  wondering  what  was 
become  of  his  pain.  But  it  was  not  half  an  hour 


26  MRS    HUTCH  IN  SON. 

before  the  vigor  which  his  spirits  had  lent  his 
frame,  retired  to  its  noble  palace  the  heart ;  this 
violent  effort  made  his  limbs  more  weak  than 
before,  and  his  suffering  returned  with  such  vio- 
lence, that  we  thought  he  would  have  died  in  this 
fit." 

Colonel  Hutchinson  was  returned  to  parliament 
for  the  town,  which  he  had  so  bravely  defended. 
He  was  afterwards  appointed  a  member  of  the  High 
Court  of  Justice,  for  the  trial  of  the  King  ;  and,  af- 
ter long  hesitation,  concurred  in  the  sentence  of  con- 
demnation against  ther"unfortunate  Charles  the  First. 

He  always  disliked  the  character  of  Cromwell, 
and  considered  his  government  as  an  unjust  usur- 
pation ;  yet  he  had  the  magnanimity  to  make  known 
to  the  Protector's  friends  a  plot,  which  had  been 
laid  for  his  assassination.  Cromwell  expressed 
abundant  gratitude  for  this  generosity,  and  tried 
every  means  to  tempt  the  regicide  officer  into  his 
service.  Colonel  Hutchinson  told  him  frankly  that 
he  did  not  like  any  of  his  measures,  and  believed 
they  were  all  tending  to  the  destruction  of  the 
country.  Cromwell  seemed  not  at  all  offended 
with  this  plainness,  but, with  tears  in  his  eyes,  com- 
plained that  others  had  urged  him  on  to  rash  and 
violent  acts,  alike  inconsistent  with  his  own  wish- 
es, and  the  liberties  of  the  people.  But  notwith- 
standing this  appearance  of  friendship  and  candor, 
Cromwell  secretly  feared  and  disliked  the  man, 
who  had  so  boldly  reproved  his  tyranny  at  the  very 
time  that  he  saved  his  life ;  and  he  was  making  pre- 


MRS  HUT  CHIN  SON.  27 

parations  to  arrest  him,  when  "  death  confined  his 
vast  ambition  to  the  narrow  compass  of  a  grave." 

During  the  administration  of  the  Protector,  Col- 
onel Hutchinson  lived  in  almost  unbroken  retire- 
ment at  Awthorpe.  He  spent  his  time  in  garden- 
ing, superintending  the  education  of  his  children, 
administering  justice  among  his  neighbors,  and  in 
making  a  choice  collection  of  painting  and  sculp- 
ture ;  in  forming  this  cabinet,  he  purchased  sev- 
eral articles  belonging  to  the  late  unfortunate  king, 
who  had  been  a  most  liberal  patron  of  literature 
and  the  arts. 

After  the  death  of  Cromwell,  Colonel  Hutchin- 
son was  again  elected  member  of  parliament.  The 
people,  finding  a  military  tyrant  no  better  than  an 
hereditary  one,  were  then  becoming  zealous  for  the 
restoration  of  the  royal  family  ;  and  of  course  those 
who  voted  for  the  death  of  the  late  king  were 
placed  in  a  condition  of  some  peril.  Colonel  llutch- 
inson  met  the  emergency  of  the  times  with  a  more 
firm  and  manly  spirit  than  most  of  his  associates. 
When  the  subject  was  debated  in  the  house,  he 
said  "  That  for  his  actings  in  those  days,  if  he  had 
erred,  it  was  the  inexperience  of  his  age,  and  the 
defect  of  his  judgment,  not  the  malice  of  his  heart  : 
that  he  had  ever  preferred  the  general  advantage 
of  his  country  to  his  own ;  and  if  the  sacrifice  of 
him  could  conduce  to  the  public  peace  and  settle- 
ment, he  freely  submitted  his  life  and  fortunes  to 
their  disposal  :  that  the  great  debts  he  had  incurred 
in  public  employments  proved  that  avarice  had  not 


28  MRS    HUTCHINSON. 

urged  him  on,  and  gave  him  just  cause  to  repent 
that  he  ever  forsook  his  own  blessed  quiet  to  em- 
bark in  such  a  troubled  sea,  where  he  had  made 
shipwreck  of  all  things  but  a  good  conscience." 

In  order  to  quiet  the  anxiety  of  Mrs  Hutchinson, 
he  assured  her  that  no  one  would  lose  or  suffer  by 
the  expected  change  of  government.  But  this  as- 
surance failed  to  tranquillize  her  fears.  She  said 
she  could  not  live  to  see  him  a  prisoner.  She  per- 
suaded him  to  leave  his  own  house  for  a  place  where 
he  could  more  readily  make  his  escape.  His 
friends  advised  him  to  give  himself  up,  thinking  he 
might  by  that  means  save  his  estates  ;  but  she  de- 
clared herself  ready  to  endure  poverty  in  its  worst 
forms,  rather  than  trust  him  to  the  generosity  of 
his  political  enemies  ;  and  she  urged  this  point 
with  such  earnest  entreaty,  that  he  promised  to  do 
nothing  without  her  consent.  For  the  first  and 
only  time  in  her  life,  she  ventured  to  disobey  him  ; 
she  wrote  a  letter  in  his  name  to  the  speaker  of 
the  house.  The  letter  was  favorably  received  ; 
this  encouraged  his  friends,  who  were  present,  and 
they  spoke  so  kindly  and  effectually  in  his  favor, 
that  his  punishment  was  limited  to  a  discharge 
from  parliament,  and  from  all  offices  civil  arid 
military  forever. 

After  this  decision,  he  returned  to  Owthorpe, 
where  he  spent  nearly  a  year  in  the  enjoyment  of 
his  quiet  and  tasteful  pursuits. 

But  Charles  the  Second  was  not  disposed  to 
trust  the  loyalty  of  those  who  had  beheaded  his 


M  R  S    H  U  T  C  H I  N  S  O  N.  29 

father.  Colonel  Hutchinson  was  at  last  seized, 
upon  suspicion  of  being  concerned  in  a  treasona- 
ble plot,  and  was  conveyed  by  an  armed  guard  to 
London.  His  wife,  with  their  oldest  son  and 
daughter,  accompanied  him.  "  Mrs  Hutchinson 
was  exceedingly  sad,  but  he  encouraged  and  kindly 
chid  her  out  of  it,  and  told  her  it  would  blemish 
his  innocence  for  her  to  appear  afflicted ;  that  if 
she  had  but  patience  to  wait  the  event,  she  would 
see  it  was  all  for  the  best,  and  bade  her  be  thank- 
ful that  she  was  permitted  to  accompany  him ;  and 
with  divers  excellent  exhortations  cheered  her, 
who  could  not  be  wholly  abandoned  to  sorrow  while 
he  was  with  her." 

The  prisoner  was  committed  to  the  Tower,  and 
treated  with  great  harshness.  The  chamber  he 
occupied  is  said  to  have  been  the  same  where  Ed- 
ward the  Fifth  and  his  little  brother  were  mur- 
dered by  the  command  of  Richard.  The  room 
leading  to  it  was  large  and  dark,  without  windows, 
where  the  portcullis  of  one  of  the  inward  gates 
was  drawn  up  and  let  down,  and  under  which 
a  guard  was  placed  every  night.  There  was  a 
tradition  that  the  Duke  of  Clarence  was  here 
drowned  in  a  butt  of  malmsey.  This  part  of  the 
building  was  called  the  Bloody  Tower.  The  door 
by  which  these  two  rooms  communicated  with  each 
other  was  not  allowed  to  stand  open  during  the 
night,  although  Colonel  Hutchinson  and  his  servant 
were  suffering  under  a  very  painful  disease,  occa- 
sioned by  bad  diet,  and  a  comfortless  residence. 


30  MRS    HUTCH  INSON. 

For  several  weeks  his  wife  was  not  permitted  to 
visit  him  ;  but  she  would  not  rest  until  her  earnest 
prayers,  aided  by  the  powerful  intercession  of  her 
brother,  were  granted.  It  was  her  wish  to  take 
lodgings  in  the  Tower ;  but  this  was  refused. 
She  was  obliged,  in  the  depth  of  winter,  to  walk 
from  her  residence  every  day  to  dinner,  and  back 
again  at  night. 

This  was  a  forlorn  kind  of  existence ;  but  the 
Colonel  endured  it  with  perfect  content  and  cheer- 
fulness. "  When  no  other  recreations  were  left 
him,  he  diverted  himself  with  sorting  and  shading 
the  shells,  which  his  wife  and  daughter  gathered 
for  him  ;  with  these  he  was  as  much  pleased  as 
with  the  richest  engraved  agates  and  onyxes, 
wherein  he  had  formerly  great  delight,  when  he 
recreated  himself  from  more  serious  studies.  His 
fancy  showed  itself  so  excellent  in  arranging  and 
dressing  these  shells,  that  none  of  us  could  imitate 
it,  and  the  cockles  began  to  be  admired  by  several 
persons  that  saw  them.  These  were  but  his 
trifling  diversions  ,  his  business  and  continual  study 
was  the  Scripture,  which  the  more  he  conversed 
in  the  more  it  delighted  him  ;  insomuch  that  his 
wife  having  brought  some  books  to  entertain  him 
in  his  solitude,  he  thanked  her,  and  told  her  that 
if  he  should  continue  in  prison  as  long  as  he  lived, 
he  would  read  nothing  but  the  Bible.  His  wife 
bore  all  her  own  toils  joyfully  for  the  love  of  him, 
but  could  not  be  otherwise  than  very  sad  at  the 
sight  of  his  undeserved  sufferings.  He  would  very 


MRSHUTCHINSON.  31 

sweetly  and  kindly  chide  her  for  it;  and  tell  her 
if  she  were  but  cheerful,  he  should  think  this  suf- 
fering the  happiest  thing  that  ever  befel  him.  He 
would  also  bid  her  rejoice  that  the  Lord  supported 
him  ;  and  remind  her  how  much  more  intolerable 
it  would  have  been,  if  the  Lord  had  allowed  his 
spirits  to  sink,  or  his  patience  to  fail  under  this. 
One  day  when  she  was  weeping,  after  he  had  said 
many  things  to  comfort  her,  he  gave  her  reasons 
why  she  should  be  assured  that  the  cause  would 
revive,  because  the  interest  of  God  was  so  much 
involved  in  it.  She  said,  "  I  do  not  doubt  the 
cause  will  revive  ;  but  notwithstanding  your  forti- 
tude, I  kno\v  this  will  conquer  the  weakness  of 
your  constitution,  and  you  will  die  in  prison."  He 
replied,  "  I  think  I  shall  not ;  but  if  I  do,  my 
blood  will  be  so  innocent,  that  I  shall  advance  the 
cause  more  by  my  death  than  I  could  by  all  the 
actions  of  my  life." 

Although  no  formal  accusation  was  ever  brought 
against  Colonel  Hutchinson,  and  no  evidence  spe- 
cified as  the  ground  of  his  detention,  he  was  im- 
prisoned in  the  Tower  ten  months.  His  energetic 
and  affectionate  wife  labored  without  ceasing  for 
his  deliverance  ;  and  his  oppressors  often  found 
themselves  embarrassed  and  confounded  by  her 
eloquent  arguments.  But  the  most  urgent  solicita- 
tions, aided  by  all  the  powerful  intercession  she 
could  procure,  were  of  no  avail. 

He  was  suddenly  removed  from  the  Tower  to 
Sandown  Castle,  in  Kent ;  where  he  was  confined 


32  MBBHUTCHINSON. 

in  a  very  damp  unwholesome  apartment,  with  anoth- 
er prisoner  of  the  most  vulgar  and  brutal  manners. 
Even  this,  he  endured  with  meekness  and  magna- 
nimity, conversing  with  his  wife  and  daughter 
"  with  as  pleasant  and  contented  a  spirit  as  ever  in 
his  whole  life."  When  she  told  him  she  feared 
they  had  placed  him  on  the  sea-shore  in  order  to 
transport  him  to  Tangier,  he  answered,  "  and  if 
they  should,  there  is  the  same  God  at  Tangier  as 
at  Owthorpe.  Prithee,  trust  me  with  God  ;  if  he 
carry  me  away,  he  will  bring  me  back  again." 

The  damp  apartment  in  which  Colonel  Hutchin- 
son  was  confined  brought  on  illness  ;  but  the  suf- 
ferings of  the  body,  as  well  as  the  mind,  he  endured 
with  the  same  strong  humility.  His  wife  watched 
over  him  with  the  most  devoted,  self-forgetting 
love.  Sir  Allen  Apsley,  at  last,  obtained  permis- 
sion for  him  to  walk  on  the  beach  a  certain  time 
every  day  ;  but  this  indulgence  came  too  late  to 
renovate  his  strength. 

Toward  the  close  of  the  year,  Mrs  Uutchinson 
was  obliged  to  go  to  Owthorpe,  to  bring  away  the 
children  she  had  left  there,  and  to  obtain  necessa- 
ry supplies  for  her  husband.  "  She  left  with  a  very 
sad  heart,  dreading  that  while  he  lay  so  ready  on 
the  sea-coast,  he  might  be  shipped  away  to  some 
barbarous  place  during  her  absence.  lie  comfort- 
ed her  all  he  could,  and  the  morning  she.  went 
away,  he  said,  "  Now  I  myself  begin  to  be  loath 
to  part."  Yet  he  encouraged  her  with  his  usual 
cheerfulness,  and  sent  his  son  along  with  her. 


MRS  HUTCHINSON.  33 

At  the  time  of  her  departure  he  seemed  very  well 
and  was  so  confident  of  seeing  Owthorpe  again, 
that  he  gave  her  directions  concerning  planting 
trees,  and  many  other  things  belonging  to  the 
house  and  gardens.  A  few  days  after,  he  returned 
from  his  walk  on  the  sea-beach  with  his  daughter, 
and  complained  of  a  shivering  and  pain  in  his  bones. 
So  long  as  he  was  able  to  sit  up,  he  read  much  in  the 
Bible;  and  on  looking, over  some  notes  on  the 
Epistle  to  the  Romans,  he  said,  '  When  my  wife 
returns,  I  will  no  more  observe  their  cross  humors  ; 
but  when  her  children  are  all  near,  I  will  have  her 
in  the  chamber  with  me,  and  they  shall  not  pluck 
her  out  of  my  arms.  During  the  winter  evenings 
she  shall  collect  together  the  observations  I  have 
made  on  this  Epistle  since  I  have  been  in  prison.' " 

As  he  grew  worse,  the  doctor  feared  delirium, 
and  advised  his  brother  and  daughter  not  to  defer 
anything  they  wished  to  say  to  him.  Being  informed 
of  his  condition,  he  replied  with  much  composure, 
"  The  will  of  the  Lord  be  done  ;  I  am  ready."  He 
then  gave  directions  concerning  the  disposal  of  his 
fortune,  and  left  strict  injunctions  that  his  children 
should  be  guided  in  all  things  by  their  mother; 
"  And  tell  her,"  said  he,  "  that  as  she  is  above 
other  women,  so  must  she  on  this  occasion  show 
herself  a  good  Christian,  and  above  the  pitch  of  or- 
dinary minds." 

While  he  was  speaking  to   them,  his  pulse  grew 
very  low  ;  yet  he  said  to  the  physician,   "  I  would 
fain  know  your  reason   for  thinking  I  am  dying. 
3 


34  MRS   HUTCHINSON. 

My  head  is  well ;  my  heart  is  well ;  I  have  no  pain 
or  sickness  anywhere."  The  doctor,  much  amazed, 
answered  that  he  should  be  glad  to  find  himself 
deceived.  Soon  after,  his  mouth  became  convulsed, 
and  he  spoke  no  more  ;  except  when  some  one  in 
the  room  mentioned  his  wife,  he  said,  "  Alas,  how 
she  will  be  grieved  !"  Then,  with  a  sigh,  his  spirit 
departed,  leaving  his  countenance  as  calm  and 
happy  as  it  had  looked  in  the  pleasantest  moments 
of  his  life. 

He  died  on  the  llth  of  September,  1664,  in  the 
fortyninth  year  of  his  age  ;  after  eleven  months  of  se- 
vere imprisonment.  The  body,  according  to  his  re- 
quest, was  buried  at  Owthorpe.  As  the  funeral  proces- 
sion moved  on,  the  people  were  much  affected,  con- 
sidering him  the  victim  of  injustice  and  oppression. 
In  one  town  only  were  any  insults  offered  by  the 
political  enemies  of  the  deceased. 

Four  sons  and  four  daughters  survived  him  ;  and 
for  their  edification  Mrs  Hutchinson  wrote  the  me- 
moir of  her  husband ,  which  has  since  been  published 
by  their  descendants.  The  book  might  with  pro- 
priety be  called  the  History  of  Her  Own  Times  ; 
for  it  is  in  fact  a  very  philosophical  view  of  the 
state  of  parties  in  England  at  that  period,  and  of 
the  causes  which  produced  them.  In  her  brief 
Sketches  of  public  men  she  evinces  singular  discri- 
mination and  clearness  of  mind  ;  and  considering 
how  dearly  her  best  affections  were  united  with 
the  interests  of  one  party,  her  candor  and  impar- 
tiality are  remarkable  ;  but  so  large  a  portion  of  the 


MRS    HUTCHINSON.  35 

work  is  occupied  with  details  of  the  petty  feuds  and 
factions  of  the  day,  that,  as  a  whole,  it  can  be  in- 
teresting to  but  few,  even  of  English  readers. 

Her  husband  is  always  mentioned  with  romantic 
tenderness,  and  deep  sensibility.  She  evidently  loved 
him  with  her  whole  soul;  and  when  he  was  gone, 
she  was  a  widow  indeed. 

An  address  to  her  children  forms  an  introduction 
to  the  Memoir  ;  in  which  she  thus  writes  :  "  I  who 
am  under  a  command  not  to  grieve  at  the  common 
rate  of  desolate  women,  while  I  am  studying  which 
way  to  moderate  my  wo,  and,  if  it  were  possible, 
to  augment  my  love,  can  find  out  none  more  just  to 
your  dear  father,  or  more  consoling  to  myself,  than 
the  preservation  of  his  memory  ;  which  I  need  not 
gild  with  such  flattering  commendations  as  the  hired 
preachers  equally  give  to  the  truly  and  the  nomi- 
nally honorable;  an  undrest  narrative,  speaking  the 
simple  truth  of  him,  will  deck  him  with  more  sub- 
stantial glory,  than  all  the  panegyrics  the  best  pens 
could  ever  consecrate  to  the  virtues  of  the  best  men. 
To  number  his  virtues  is  to  give  the  epitome  of  his 
life,  which  was  nothing  else  but  a  progress  from 
one  degree  of  virtue  to  another.  His  example  was 
more  instructive  than  the  best  rules  of  the  moral- 
ists ;  for  his  practice  was  of  a  more  divine  extrac- 
tion, drawn  from  the  Word  of  God,  and  wrought 
up  by  the  assistance  of  his  spirit.  He  had  a  noble 
method  of  government,  whether  in  civil,  military, 
or  domestic  administrations. ;  which  forced  love 
and  reverence  even  from  unwilling  subjects,  and 


36  MRS    HUTCHINSON. 

greatly  endeared  him  to  the  souls  of  those  who  re- 
joiced to  be  governed  by  him.  He  had  a  native 
majesty  that  struck  awe  into  the  hearts  of  men,  and 
a  sweet  greatness  that  commanded  love.  He  was 
naturally  attached  to  the  military  employment,  for 
he  understood  it  well,  and  it  suited  the  activity  of 
his  temper.  Never  was  a  man  more  loved  or 
reverenced  by  those  that  were  under  him.  He 
was  very  liberal  to  them,  but  ever  chose  just  times 
and  occasions  to  exercise  it.  I  cannot  say  whether 
he  were  more  truly  magnanimous,  or  less  proud. 
He  never  disdained  the  meanest  person,  or  flattered 
the  greatest.  Wherever  he  saw  wisdom,  learning, 
or  other  virtues  in  man,  he  honored  them  highly  ; 
but  he  never  blindly  gave  himself  up  to  the  conduct 
of  any  master.  He  had  a  sweet  courtesy  toward 
the  poor,  and  often  employed  many  spare  hours 
with  the  common  soldiers  and  laborers,  but  so 
ordered  his  familiarity  that  it  never  decreased  re- 
spect. He  took  pleasure  in  wit  and  mirth,  but  that 
which  was  mixed  with  impurity  he  never  could 
endure.  Of  all  falsehood  he  most  hated  hypocrisy 
in  religion ;  either  to  comply  with  changing  gov- 
ernments or  persons,  without  a  real  persuasion  of 
conscience,  or  to  practise  holy  things  for  the  sake 
of  interest,  or  the  applause  of  men.  He  never  pro- 
fessed friendship  wliere  he  had  it  not,  or  disguised 
aversion,  or  hatred,  which  indeed  he  never  had 
toward  any  party,  or  person,  but  only  to  their  sins. 
At  the  same  time  that  he  conquered  an  enemy,  he 
cast  away  all  ill-will,  and  entertained  only  thoughts 


MRS    HUTCHINSON.  37 

of  compassion  and  love.  He  that  was  a  rock  to  all 
assaults  of  might  and  violence,  was  the  gentlest 
easy  soul  to  kindness,  that  the  least  warm  spark  of 
that  melted  him  into  anything  that  was  not  sinful. 
He  was  as  dutiful  a  son,  as  dear  a  brother,  as 
affectionate  a  father,  as  good  a  master,  and  as  faith- 
ful a  friend,  as  the  world  ever  had  ;  yet  in  all  these 
relations  he  had  no  indulgence  for  vice  or  folly 
pertinaciously  pursued ;  but  the  more  dear  any 
person  was  to  him,  the  more  he  was  offended  at 
anything  that  might  diminish  the  lustre  of  their 
glory. 

"  His  affection  for  his  wife  was  such,  that  whoever 
would  form  rules  of  kindness,  honor,  and  religion, 
to  be  practised  in  that  state,  need  no  more,  but 
exactly  draw  out  his  example.  Man  never  had  a 
greater  passion  or  a  more  honorable  esteem  for 
woman  ;  yet  he  was  not  uxorious,  and  never  remit- 
ted that  just  rule  which  it  was  her  honor  to  obey  ; 
but  he  managed  the  reins  of  government  with  such 
prudence  and  affection,  that  she  who  would  not  de- 
light in  such  honorable  and  advantageous  subjection, 
must  have  wanted  a  reasonable  soul.  He  governed 
by  persuasion,  which  he  never  employed  but  in 
things  profitable  to  herself.  lie  leaved  her  soul 
better  than  her  countenance  ;  yet  even  for  her  per- 
son he  had  a  constant  affection,  exceeding  the 
common  temporary  passion  of  fond  fools.  If  he 
esteemed  her  at  a  higher  rate  than  she  deserved, 
he  was  himself  the  author  of  the  virtue  he  doated 
on  ;  for  she  was  but  a  faithful  mirror,  reflecting 


38  MRS    HUTCHlNSOtf. 

truly,  though  dimly,  his  own  glories  upon  him, 
The  greatest  excellence  she  had  was  the  power  of 
apprehending,  and  the  virtue  of  loving,  his.  All  she 
had,  was  derived  from  him.  A  likeness  that  follow- 
ed him  everywhere,  till  he  was  taken  to  the  regions 
of  light,  and  now  she  is  but  at  best  his  pale  shade. 
So  liberal  was  he  to  her,  and  of  so  generous  a  tem- 
per, that  he  hated  the  mention  of  severed  purses. 
His  estate  was  so  much  at  her  disposal  that  he  never 
would  receive  an  account  of  anything  she  expended. 
When  she  ceased  to  be  young  and  lovely,  he  showed 
her  the  most  tenderness.  He  loved  her  at  such  a 
kind  and  generous  rate  as  words  cannot  express ;  yet 
even  this,  which  was  the  highest  love  any  man 
could  have,  was  bounded  by  a  superior  feeling ;  he 
regarded  her  not  as  his  idol,  but  as  his  fellow-crea- 
ture in  the  Lord,  and  proved  that  such  an  affection 
far  exceeds  all  the  irregular  passions  in  the  world. 

"The  heat  of  his  youth  inclined  him  to  anger,  and 
the  goodness  of  his  nature  made  him  prone  to 
love  and  grief;  but  his  soul  ever  reigned  king 
upon  the  internal  throne,  and  was  never  taken 
captive  by  his  senses  :  religion  and  reason,  its  two 
favored  counsellors,  took  order  that  all  the  passions 
kept  within  just  bounds,  there  did  him  good,  and 
furthered  the  public  Weal." 

The  debts  Colonel  Hutchinson  had  incurred  in 
the  public  service,  left  his  excellent  widow  in  very 
straitened  circumstances.  The  estate  atOvvthorpe 
was  sold  to  a  younger  branch  of  her  husband's 
family,  who  happened  to  be  in  favor  with  the  trium- 


MRS    HUTCHINSON.  39 

phant  royalists.  Mrs  Hutchinson  lived  to  see  some 
of  her  children  married,  and  survived  two  of  them. 
The  precise  period  of  her  death  is  not  mentioned. 
One  of  their  descendants  emigrated  to  America. 
I  do  not  know  whether  any  of  his  posterity  now 
survive  in  this  country.  The  family  of  Apsley 
merged  in  the  noble  family  of  Bathurst,  who  retain 
the  name  of  Apsley  as  their  second  title. 

Mrs  Hutchinson  was  possessed  of  talent  and 
learning  that  would  have  given  her  a  high  reputa- 
tion in  any  age,  and  which  were  very  extraordinary 
in  a  lady  of  that  period  ;  yet  she  performed  all  the 
duties  of  a  woman  in  a  most  exemplary  manner. 
The  Edinburgh  Review  pays  the  following  tribute 
to  her  memory  :  "  Education  is  certainly  far  more 
generally  diffused  in  our  days,  and  accomplishments 
infinitely  more  common  ;  but  the  perusal  of  this 
volume  has  taught  us  to  doubt  whether  the  better 
sort  of  women  were  not  fashioned  of  old,  by  a  purer 
and  more  exalted  standard ;  and  whether  the  most 
eminent  female  of  the  present  day  would  not  appear 
to  disadvantage  by  the  side  of  Mrs  Hutchinson. 
There  is  something  in  the  domestic  virtue  and  calm 
commanding  mind  of  this  English  matron,  that 
makes  the  Corinnes  and  Heloises  appear  very  insig- 
nificant. We  may  safely  venture  to  assert  that  a 
nation  which  produces  many  such  wives  and  moth- 
ers as  Mrs  Lucy  Hntchinson,  must  be  both  great 
and  happy." 


LADY    BIRON, 

WIFE    OF    SIR    JOHN     BIRON. 

THERE  is  a  singular  story  told  concerning  the 
grand  parents  of  Colonel  Hutchinson.  His  mater- 
nal grandfather  was  not  the  eldest  son  of  Sir  John 
Biron.  There  was  an  elder  brother,  who  had  dis- 
pleased his  father  so  much  by  an  obscure  marriage, 
that  he  intended  to  divide  his  estate  equally  be- 
tween his  sons.  The  younger  son  married  the 
daughter  of  Lord  Fitzwilliam,  who  had  enjoyed  a 
princely  office  during  the  reign  of  Queen  Eliza- 
beth. This  lady  was  endowed  with  rare  beauty 
and  great  accomplishments ;  and  her  husband  was 
exceedingly  enamored  of  her.  But  noble-minded 
and  intelligent  as  she  was,  she  had  one  great  weak- 
ness —  she  could  not  endure  that  a  woman  very  in- 
ferior to  herself  should  be  the  wife  of  the  elder  son, 
while  she  was  wedded  to  the  younger.  This  source 
of  discontent  was  removed  by  a  sad  accident. 
One  day  the  brothers  went  out  to  hunt  with  their 
father;  and  the  elder,  being  of  a  merry  disposition, 
commanded  something  to  be  put  under  his  servant's 
saddle,  to  frighten  the  horse,  and  make  sport.  The 


LADY    BIRON.  41 

joke  succeeded  so  well  that  the  author  of  it  died  in 
a  passion  of  laughter. 

The  marriage  which  gave  so  much  offence  had 
proved  childless ;  and  the  younger  brother  of 
course  inherited  the  estates  and  titles  of  the  family. 

The  high-born  beauty  was  now  in  the  very 
zenith  of  her  wishes,  and  blest  with  a  lovely  family. 
But  it  pleased  Divine  Providence  suddenly  to 
eclipse  her  glory.  At  the  birth  of  twin  daughters 
her  brilliant  intellect  was  obscured  forever  !  The 
best  physicians  in  England  tried  in  vain  to  restore 
her  understanding.  She  was  never  frantic  ;  but 
had  a  pretty  poetical  delirium,  often  more  delightful 
than  the  conversation  of  women,  who  had  perfect  use 
of  their  senses.  Her  husband  relinquished  all  busi- 
ness and  all  amusements,  and  devoted  his  whole 
time  to  her,  and  to  the  education  of  their  children. 
After  the  loss  of  her  reason,  she  had  other  child- 
ren ;  but  they  were  not  affected  by  their  mother's 
unfortunate  condition. 

Though  Lady  Biron's  mind  was  distempered  in 
all  other  respects,  she  retained  perfect  love  and 
obedience  to  her  husband ;  and  he  treated  her 
with  more  tenderness  and  respect  than  he  had  done 
even  during  the  first  years  of  their  happy  union. 
Thus  in  the  constancy  of  mutual  affection  they  ad- 
vanced toward  old  age. 

When  she  was  ill,  he  slept  in  a  separate  bed  in 
the  same  chamber,  while  two  women  took  turns  in 
watching  her. 

It  was  his  custom,  the  moment  he   unclosed  his 


42  LADV    BIRON. 

eyes,  to  ask  how  she  did.  One  night,  when  he 
was  in  a  very  deep  sleep,  she  departed  from  this 
life.  He  was  to  have  gone  a  hunting  that  morn- 
ing, the  exercise  being  recommended  for  his 
health  :  and  it  was  his  habit  to  have  the  chaplain 
pray  with  him  before  he  went  out.  The  nurses, 
knowing  how  much  he  loved  his  wife,  were  afraid 
to  tell  him  of  her  death ;  and  they  begged  the 
chaplain  to  inform  him  of  it,  in  the  gentlest  man- 
ner he  could.  Sir  John  did  not  that  morning, 
according  to  his  usual  custom,  inquire  how  his  lady 
did.  He  called  the  chaplain,  joined  with  him  in 
prayer,  and  expired  in  the  midst  of  the  holy  ser- 
vice. The  husband  and  wife  were  laid  side  by 
side,  and  buried  in  the  same  grave.  It  was  never 
known  whether  he  had  discovered  his  loss,  and  his 
heart  had  broken  at  the  separation  from  one  he 
loved  so  dearly,  or  whether  a  strange  sympathy  of 
nature  had  produced  this  affecting  coincidence. 
But  so  it  happened,  that  God  in  his  mercy  took 
them  at  once  from  a  world,  whose  bitterest  portion 
is  a  widowed  heart. 


MRS    FLETCHER, 

WIFE   OF    REV.   JOHN    FLETCHER. 

THE  Rev.  John  Fletcher,  Vicar  of  Madely,  in 
England,  is  well  known  among  the  disciples  of  Wes- 
ley, as  a  man,  of  great  zeal,  piety  and  gentleness, 
whose  efforts  in  the  cause  of  religion  were  much 
blessed. 

The  lady  he  married  was  named  Mary  Bosan- 
quet.  Her  parents  were  highly  respectable  and 
wealthy,  and  she  of  course  was  surrounded  by  the 
pleasures  and  fascinations  of  the  world.  But  in 
early  childhood  she  was  much  under  the  influence 
of  a  domestic,  who  had  been  converted  by  Meth- 
odist preaching  ;  and  from  her  she  received  .im- 
pressions which  she  never  afterward  lost  ;  impres- 
sions that  gave  a  coloring  to  the  whole  of  her 
future  life.  When  seven  years  old,  she  says,  "  I 
thought  if  I  became  a  Methodist,  I  should  be  sure 
of  salvation  ;  and  determined  if  I  ever  could  get 
to  that  people,  whatever  it  cost  me,  I  would  be 
one  of  them.  But  after  a  few  conversations,  and 
hearing  my  sister  read  some  little  books  which  this 
servant  had  given  to  her,  I  found  out,  it  was  not 


44  MRS    FLETCHER. 

the  being  joined  to  any  people  that  would  save  me, 
but  I  must  be  converted,  and  have  faith  in  Christ; 
that  I  was  to  be  saved  by  believing ;  and  that  be- 
lieving would  make  me  holy,  and  give  me  a  power 
to  love  and  serve  God.  The  servant  left  our  fami- 
ly and  my  sister  and  I  continued  like  blind  persons 
groping  our  way  in  the  dark  ;  though  we  had  so 
far  discerned  the  truth  as  to  express  it  in  the  above 
manner,  I  could  not  comprehend  it.  My  heart 
rose  against  the  idea  at  being  saved  by  a  faith, 
which  I  could  not  understand.  One  day  looking 
over  the  pictures  in  the  Book  of  Martyrs,  I  thought 
it  would  be  easier  to  be  burned  than  to  believe  ;  and 
heartily  did  I  wish  that  the  Papists  would  come 
and  burn  me,  and  then  I  thought  I  should  be  quite 
safe." 

The  death  of  her  grandfather  and  grandmother, 
when  she  was  about  thirteen  years  of  age  tended 
to  increase  the  seriousness  of  her  youthful  charac- 
ter. She  says,  "  My  honored  grandfather  was  one 
of  the  excellent  of  the  earth.  In  his  last  illness 
he  delighted  much  in  these  words,  '  My  sheep  hear 
my  voice  ;  I  know  them,  and  they  follow  me.' 
He  was  aged  geventynine,  and  had  lived  with  my 
grandmother  fortyfive  years,  in  a  union  not  usually 
to  be  met  with.  He  was  plain  in  his  dress,  and 
strictly  conscientious  in  all  his  expenses.  When 
many  dishes  were  on  his  table,  he  scarcely  ate  of 
anything  but  mutton,  and  that  for  many  years,  be- 
cause he  believed  it  most  conducive  to  his  health. 
His  love  and  charity  to  the  poor  were  uncommon. 


MRS     FLETCHER.  45 

He  esteemed  it  a  reproach  to  any  man  to  say  he 
died  very  rich  ;  adding,  '  It  is  too  plain  a  mark  he 
has  not  made  a  good  use  of  his  income.'  One 
day  a  gentleman,  who  was  by  him  upon  the  Ex- 
change, said  to  another,  '  Sir  John,  I  give  you  joy  ; 
they  tell  me  you  have  completed  your  hundred 
thousand  pounds.'  The  other  replied,  '  I  hope  to 
double  it  before  I  die.'  My  grandfather,  turning 
round  quickly,  said,  '  Then,  Sir  John,  you  are  not 
worthy  of  it.' 

"  My  grandmother  was  a  woman  of  an  uncom- 
monly sweet  temper ;  and  having  acquired  a  good 
deal  of  skill  in  physic,  she  so  helped  the  poor,  that 
they  looked  on  her  as  a  mother,  a  nurse,  and  a 
counsellor.  When  my  grandfather  had  been  dead 
three  months,  she  dreamed  that  he  came  to  her  one 
night,  and  standing  by  the  bed-side  told  her  that 
1  she  should  come  to  him  shortly  ;  till  then  his  happi- 
ness was  not  so  complete  as  it  would  be  ;'  and  added 
'  Study  the  Scriptures  —  study  the  Scriptures  ;  in 
them  ye  think  ye  have  eternal  life.'  She  always 
had  a  veneration  for  the  Word  of  God  ;  but  from 
that  time  she  applied  to  it  daily,  in  a  manner  supe- 
rior to  what  she  had  done  before.  About  three 
weeks  after,  she  said  to  us,  '  Air  that  room ;  I  will 
go  into  it,  that  I  may  die  in  the  bed  where  my  hus- 
band died.'  She  came  out  no  more;  for  she  expir- 
ed within  the  week." 

The  parents  of  Mary  Bosanquet,  having  removed 
all  Methodist  b6oks,  and  dismissed  the  above- 
mentioned  domestic,  thought  her  religious  impres- 


46  MRSFLETCHER. 

sions  had  worn  off.  But  when  the  mind  is  earnestly 
intent  upon  any  one  object,  it  will  find  means,  even 
under  the  most  adverse  circumstances,  to  gratify  its 
ruling  inclination.  She  and  her  elder  sister,  unknown 
to  their  parents,  contrived  to  keep  up  an  intimacy 
with  several  of  Mr  Wesley's  followers  ;  and  when 
her  sister  married,  and  removed  from  her,  these 
connexions  still  continued. 

The  consequences  were  inevitable.  What  are 
called  the  pleasures  of  society  were  at  variance 
with  her  ideas  of  religious  duty,  and  she  was  una- 
ble to  discover  how  she  could  at  the  same  time 
serve  God  and  the  world.  She  begged  leave  not 
to  accompany  the  family  to  the  theatre,  because 
she  could  not  conscientiously  partake  of  such 
amusements ;  and  when  her  father  told  her  that 
"  her  arguments  proved  too  much  ;  since,  accord- 
ing to  her  doctrines,  all  places  of  diversion,  all 
dress,  all  parties  —  indeed  the  whole  spirit  of  the 
world,  was  sinful,"  she  replied,  "  I  believe  it  to  be 
so ;  and  am  therefore  determined  to  be  no  more 
conformed  to  its  customs,  fashions,  or  maxims." 

This,  of  course,  opened  the  door  for  many  do- 
mestic trials.  Her  father  reasoned,  her  mother 
grieved,  and  her  acquaintance  sneered.  Some- 
times she  yielded  to  the  temptations  around  her, 
and  was  enticed  by  the  world  ;  but  these  states  of 
mind  were  usually  followed  by  depression,  arising 
from  a  sense  of  her  own  weakness.  This  brought 
on  fresh  reproaches  ;  her  melancholy  was  said  to 
be  occasioned  by  her  strange  ideas  of  religion  ;  and 


MBS    FLETCHER.  47 

if  she  were  visited  by  illness,  it  was  attributed  to 
the  same  cause. 

She  loved  her  father  very  tenderly,  and  there- 
fore it  was  peculiarly  painful  to  her  to  oppose  him. 
Obedience  to  God  seemed  to  her  to  be  at  variance 
with  obedience  to  her  parents ;  and  she  was  contin- 
ually perplexed  to  know  how  far  she  ought  to  con- 
form to  them,  and  how  far  she  ought  to  resist. 

When  she  was  about  seventeen  years  of  age,  she 
became  acquainted  with  a  gentleman,  who  profess- 
ed great  affection  for  her.  Her  religious  friends 
advised  her  to  think  of  him,  as  he  was  likely  to  be 
very  acceptable  to  her  parents,  and  would  enable 
her  to  enjoy  more  liberty  than  she  could  have 
under  her  parental  roof.  She  was  perplexed  by 
these  counsels,  and  sometimes  tempted;  but  she 
soon  became  convinced  that  her  affections  were  not 
sufficiently  interested  ;  and  all  thoughts  of  him 
were  swallowed  up  in  a  renewed  ardor  of  piety. 
Her  mother  sometimes  expressed  the  opinion  that 
Mary  had  better  be  removed  from  the  family,  lest 
her  example  should  influence  her  younger  brothers, 
and  thus,  as  she  supposed,  ruin  their  worldly  pros- 
pects. Even  her  father,  who  was  more  calm  and 
considerate,  wished  to  exact  from  her  a  promise 
that  she  would  never,  in  any  way,  attempt  to  make 
her  brothers  what  she  considered  a  Christian  :  she 
replied,  "  I  dare  not  promise  that."  Her  father  then 
intimated  it  was  best  for  her  to  remove  from  home  ; 
saying,  with  some  emotion,  "  I  do  not  know  that 
you  ever  disobliged  me  wilfully  in  your  life,  but 


48  MRS    FLETCHER. 

only  in  these  fancies."  Her  mother  approved  of 
her  resolution  to  take  lodgings,  and  assisted  her  in 
the  necessary  arrangements.  She  says,  "  Some- 
thing, however,  seemed  to  hold  us,  on  both  sides, 
from  bringing  it  to  the  point.  For  the  next  two 
months  I  suffered  much ;  my  mind  was  exercised 
with  many  tender  and  painful  feelings.  One  day 
my  mother  sent  me  word  I  must  go  home  to  my 
lodgings  that  night.  I  went  down  to  dinner,  but 
they  said  nothing  on  the  subject ;  and  I  could  not 
begin  it.  The  next  day,  as  I  was  sitting  in  my 
room,  I  received  again  the  same  message;  during 
dinner,  however,  nothing  was  spoken  on  the 
subject.  I  was  much  distressed,  I  thought,  '  if 
they  do  not  invite  me  to  come  and  see  them 
again,  how  shall  I  bear  it  ?'  At  last,  just  as 
they  were  going  out,  my  mother  said,  '  If  you  will, 
the  coach,  when  it  has  set  us  down,  may  carry  you 
to  your  lodging.'  My  father  added,  '  we  should 
be  glad  to  have  you  dine  with  us  next  Tuesday.' 
This  was  some  relief.  I  remained  silent.  When 
the  coach  returned,  I  ordered  my  trunk  into  it  ; 
and  struggling  with  myself,  took  a  kind  of  leave  of 
each  of  the  servants,  as  they  stood  in  tears.  My 
lodging  consisted  of  two  rooms,  as  yet  unfurnished 
I  had  never  seen  the  people  of  the  house,  I  only 
knew  them  by  character  to  be  sober  persons.  I 
borrowed  a  table  and  a  candlestick,  and  the  window- 
seat  served  me  as  a  chair.  Bolting  the  door,  I  began 
to  muse  on  my  present  situation.  '  I  am  young  — 
only  entered  into  my  twentysecond  year.  I  am 


MUS    FLETCHER.  49 

cast  out  of  my  father's  house.  My  heart  knows 
what  it  is  to  be  a  stranger.  I  prayed  to  the 
Lord,  and  found  a  sweet  calm  spread  over  my 
spirit.  I  could  in  a  measure  act  faith  on  these 
words ;  '  When  thy  father  and  thy  mother  forsake 
thee,  the  Lord  shall  take  thee  up.' 

"  The  following  reflections  also  arose  in  my  mind. 
'  I  am  now  exposed  to  the  world,  and  know  not 
the  snares  that  may  be  gathering  around  me.  I 
will  form  a  plan  for  my  future  conduct,  and  endeav- 
or to  walk  thereby.  I  will  not  receive  visits  from 
single  men  ;  and  in  order  to  evade  the  trial  more 
easily,  I  will  not  get  acquainted  with  any.  I  will 
endeavor  to  lay  out  my  time  by  rule,  that  I  may 
know  each  hour  what  is  to  be  done  ;  nevertheless  I 
will  cheerfully  submit  to  have  these  rules  broken, 
whenever  the  providence  of  God  thinks  fit  to  do  so. 
Thirdly,  I  will  try  to  fix  my  mind  on  the  example 
of  Jesus  Christ,  remembering>  "  He  came  not  to  be 
ministered  unto,  but  to  minister." 

"  The  prejudices  of  education  are  strong  ;  espe- 
cially in  those  brought  up  in  rather  high  life.  The 
being  removed  from  a  parent's  habitation  seemed 
very  awful.  I  considered  myself  liable  to  deep 
reproach,  and  trembled  at  the  thought.  But  I  re- 
membered, '  He  that  loveth  father  or  mother  more 
than  me,  is  not  worthy  of  me.' 

"  I    had  hired  a  sober  girl  to  be  in  readiness  to 

attend  upon  me  ;  and  my   maid   being  now  come, 

and  having  lighted  a  fire  in   the  other  room,  and 

borrowed  a  few  articles  of  the    family,  she  begged 

4 


50  MRS    FLETCHER. 

me  to  come  into  it,  as  the  night  was  very  cold 
And  now  my  captivity  seemed  turning  every  mo- 
ment. The  thought  that  I  was  brought  out  of  the 
world,  and  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  be  holy,  filled 
me  with  consolation.  Thankfulness  overflowed 
my  heart ;  and  such  a  spirit  of  peace  and  content 
poured  into  my  soul,  that  all  about  me  seemed  a 
little  heaven. 

"  Some  bread,  with  rank  salt  butter,  and  water  to 
drink,  made  me  so  comfortable  a  meal,  that  I 
could  truly  say  I  ate  my  meat  with  gladness  and 
singleness  of  heart.  As  the  bed  was  not  put  up,  I 
laid  almost  on  the  ground  that  night,  and  it  being 
a  bright  moonlight  night,  the  sweet  solemnity 
thereof  well  agreed  with  the  tranquillity  of  my  spirit. 
I  had  daily  more  cause  for  praise.  I  was  acquaint- 
ed with  many  of  the  excellent  of  the  earth,  and 
my  delight  was  in  them.  Yet  I  was  not  without 
my  cross  ;  for  every  time  I  went  to  see  my  dear 
parents,  what  I  felt,  when  I  rose  up  to  go  away, 
cannot  well  be  imagined.  Not  that  I  wished  to 
abide  there ;  but  there  was  something  very  affecl- 
ing  in  bidding  farewell  to  those  under  whose  roof  I 
had  always  lived  ;  though  I  saw  the  wise  and 
gracious  hand  of  God  in  all,  and  that  he  had  by 
this  means  set  me  free  to  do  his  service.  From  my 
heart  I  thanked  Him  as  the  author,  and  them  as  the 
profitable  instruments  of  doing  me  so  great  good. 
My  mother  was  frequently  giving  me  little  things  ; 
and  every  renewed  mark  of  kindness  made  the 
wound  bleed  afresh." 


MRS     FLETCHER.  5X 

Whether  it  were  a  strict  duty  for  Miss  Bosanquet 
to  take  so  important  a  step  as  to  withdraw  from 
her  natural  protectors,  rather  thaa  conform  to  them, 
is  not  a  question  to  be  decided  by  any  conscience 
but  her  own.  It  appears  to  me  that  the  purification 
of  the  heart  may  go  on  under,  all  kinds  of  external 
annoyances  and  inconveniences. 

But  whether  Miss  Bosanquet  was,  or  was  not, 
mistaken  in  her  perception  of  what  was  right,  her 
intentions  appear  to  have  been  perfectly  sincere 
and  pure. 

As  she  inherited  some  fortune  from  her  grand- 
parents, which  was  entirely  at  her  own  disposal,  she 
was  enabled  to  live  in  respectability  and  comfort. 
Feeling  the  want  of  a  discreet,  faithful  friend,  she 
invited  a  poor  invalid  woman,  of  the  same  religious 
persuasion  as  herself,  to  her  lodging ;  and  until 
the  death  of  this  friend,  they  shared  "  but  one  heart, 
one  mind,  and  one  purse." 

Not  long  after  she  left  home,  she  resolved  to  re- 
turn to  her  native  village,  and  convert  a  house  she 
owned  there  into  a  place  of  religious  instruction 
for  poor  children.  The  Methodists  were  then  a 
new  sect,  and  there  was  a  great  excitement  about 
them.  Her  father  told  her,  with  a  smile,  that  he 
could  not  prevent  the  mob  from  pulling  her  house 
about  her  ears,  if  they  chose.  She  and  her  friend 
were  indeed  frequently  annoyed  by  the  populace, 
during  their  meetings  ;  but  no  worse  injury  was 
done  than  breaking  windows,  throwing  dirt, 
bowling  about  the  house,  &c.  The  orphan  school 


52  MRS    FLETCHER. 

succeeded  wonderfully;  but  as  .the  number  of 
scholars  increased  fast,  it  was  necessary  to  employ 
many  individuals  to  take  care  of  them.  The 
whole  expense  came  upon  Miss  Bosanquet,  and  she 
soon  began  to  realize  that  it  would  far  exceed  her 
income  ;  but  she  believed  that  she  had  a  peculiar 
call  from  the  Lord,  and  that  she  had  nothing  to  do 
but  to  trust  Divine  Providence.  Generous  and  un- 
expected contributions  did,  from  time  to  time, 
lighten  the  load  her  benevolence  had  imposed  upon 
itself.  Still  she  rwas  often  harassed  to  pay  her 
bills ;  the  care  of  so  large  a  number  of  rude  ne- 
glected children  was  a  great  trial  to  the  patience  ; 
and  her  friend  was  sinking  so  [fast,  that  each  day 
she  expected  to  Look  upon  her  for  the  last  time. 

In  the  midst  of  these  trials,  she  was  deprived  of 
her  parents.  On  his  death-bed,  her  father  talked  to 
her  with  much  tenderness,  and  expressed  regret 
that  he  had  not  left  her  fortune  so  entirely  at  her 
own  disposal  as  that  of  the  other  children.  He 
offered  to  have  an  alteration  made  in  the  will ;  but 
as  she  supposed  the/e  were  some  reasons  why  it 
would  disturb  his  dying  moments,  she  would  not 
consent  to  any  change. 

She  found  the  fortune  her  father  had  left  unre- 
stricted was  larger  than  his  regrets  had  led  her 
to  imagine  ;  but  with  a  household  of  thirty  to  sup- 
port, it  is  not  strange  that  she  was  involved  in  fresh 
embarrassments,  for  which  she  was  blamed  by  the 
worldly-wise,  and  laughed  at  by  the  thoughtless. 
Her  invalid  friend  said  to  her,  "  My  dear,  I  hardly 


MRS    FLETCHER  53 

know  how  to  rejoice  in  the  prospect  of  death, 
because  I  see  no  way  for  you.  I  shall  leave  you 
in  the  hands  of  enemies,  but  God  will  take  care  of 
you."  Miss  Bosanquet answered,  "Can  you  think 
of  any  way  for  me  ?  It  is  sometimes  presented  to 
my  mind,  that  I  should  be  called  to  marry  Mr 
Fletcher."  Her  friend  replied,  "  I  like  him  the 
best  of  any  man,  if  ever  you  do  take  that  step. 
Yet  unless  he  should  be  of  a  very  tender  disposition 
.toward  you,  you  would  not  be  happy  ;  but  God  will 
direct  you." 

This  avowal  is  the  first  intimation  of  an  attach- 
ment to  Mr  Fletcher.  He  himself  had  no  suspicion 
of  it  until  she  accepted  him  many  years  after. 

The  impression  made  during  their  first  acquaint- 
ance was  mutual.  In  a  letter  written  by  Mr 
Fletcher  to  Mr  Charles  Wesley,  soon  after  his  in- 
troduction to  the  lady,  he  says,  "  You  ask  me  a  very 
singular  question,  —  I  shall  answer  it  with  a  smile, 
as  I  suppose  you  asked  it.  You  might  have  re- 
marked that  for  some  days  before  I  set  off  for 
Madely,  I  considered  matrimony  with  a  different 
eye  to  what  I  had  done  ;  and  the  person  who  then 
presented  herself  to  my  imagination  was  Miss 
Bosanquet.  Her  image  pursued  me  for  some  hours 
the  last  day,  and  that  so  warmly,  that  I  should, 
perhaps,  have  lost  my  peace,  if  a  suspicion  of  the 
truth  of  Juvenal's  proverb  'Veniunt  a  dote  sigilta' 
('the  arrows  come  from  the  portion'  rather  than 
from  the  lady)  had  not  made  me  blush,  fight,  and 
flee  to  Jesus,  who  delivered  me  at  the  same  mo- 


54  MRS    FLETCHER. 

ment  from  her  image  and  from  all  ideas  of  mar- 
riage." 

After  the  first  allusion  to  Mr  Fletcher,  he  is  fre- 
quently mentioned  in  Miss  Bosanquet's  journal. 
She  speaks  of  the  spirituality  of  his  writings  and 
preaching,  finds  a  great  similarity  between  his  re- 
ligious states  and  her  own,  expresses  anxiety  con- 
cerning his  health,  the  necessity  of  his  departure 
from  England  on  that  account,  &LC. 

But  his  conscientious  scruples  lest  her  fortune 
was  the  temptation  kept  them  separated  for  a  very 
long  time :  during  the  interval  of  which  they  were 
both  preparing  for  a  pure  and  eternal  union,  by  fol- 
lowing in  all  humility  what  appeared  to  them  to  be 
the  will  of  God. 

Her  path  was  one  of  peculiar  trials.  Her  lonely 
situation,  her  pecuniary  embarrassments,  her  un- 
ruly and  expensive  family,  ingratitude  and  reproach 
where  she  had  reason  to  expect  consolation  and 
assistance,  all  conspired  to  depress  her  mind,  and 
enfeeble  her  health.  It  may  be  said  that  she 
brought  these  afflictions  on  herself  by  taking  an 
unnecessary  burden  ;  but  I  think  the  good  cannot 
refuse  a  tribute  of  respect  to  intentions  so  pure,  and 
efforts  so  benevolent.  In  the  midst  of  her  perplex- 
ities, a  gentleman,  whose  fortune  exceeded  her 
own,  wished  very  much  to  marry  her,  and  strongly 
urged  the  necessity  of  her  having  some  friend  to 
arrange  her  worldly  business.  She  deeply  felt  the 
want  of  such  a  friend  ;  and  to  one  of  her  simple 
habits  his  fortune  was  amply  sufficient  in  case  of  a 


MRS  FLETCHER.  55 

total  loss  of  her  own ;  but  her  affections  were  with 
Mr  Fletcher, —  and,  unlike  many  ladies,  it  seemed 
to  her  a  sin,  to  make  a  solemn  promise  of  love  to  a 
man  she  did  not  love,  and  of  honor  to  a  man  she 
could  not  honor.  If  all  were  as  conscientious  as 
Mr  and  Mrs  Fletcher,  the  world  would  again  be- 
come an  Eden,  where  mortals  might  walk  with 
angels,  and  the  voice  of  God  be  heard  in  the 
garden. 

Domestic  love  is  the  only  rose  we  have  left  of 
paradise.  Alas  !  that  worldly  prudence  should 
scornfully  cast  it  away,  keeping  only  the  thorn,  as 
a  memento  that  the  lovely  blossom  can  exist  in  a 
sinful  world. 

The  pair  that  so  patiently  trusted  in  Providence 
were  led  into  the  paths  of  happiness  and  peace. 
After  an  absence  of  fifteen  years,  Mr  Fletcher 
returned  to  England  and  immediately  wrote  to 
Miss  Bosanquet  that  during  twentyfive  years  he  had 
entertained  a  regard  for  her,  which  was  still  as 
sincere  as  ever  ;  and  if  it  appeared  odd  that  he 
should  write  on  such  a  subject  when  he  had  just 
returned  from  abroad,  and  especially  without  first 
seeing  her,  he  could  only  say  that  his  mind  was  so 
strongly  drawn  to  do  it,  that  he  believed  it  to  be  the 
order  of  Providence. 

This  letter  struck  her  as  very  remarkable ;  for 
she  had,  with  the  most  scrupulous  delicacy,  refrain- 
ed from  all  communication  with  him ;  and  fearing 
it  was  wrong  to  employ  her  thoughts  so  much  about 
him,  she  had  prayed  to  the  Lord  to  give  her  some 


56  MRS    FLETCHER. 

indication  that  he  was  the  man  on  whom  she  ought 
to  fix  her  affections  ;  and  the  token  she  asked  was, 
that  he  should  write  to  her  as  soon  as  he  returned, 
and  before  he  had  seen  her. 

In  whatever  light  this  circumstance  may  be  view- 
ed, it  proves  the  tenderness  of  her  conscience,  and 
the  beautiful  simplicity  of  her  faith. 

The  necessity  of  arranging  her  worldly  business, 
before  she  removed  to  the  distant  residence  of  her 
husband,  occasioned  a  few  months'  delay,  during 
which  time  she  received  visits  from  Mr  Fletcher, 
and  corresponded  with  perfect  frankness  concern- 
ing her  temporal  and  eternal  concerns.  By  the 
sale  of  real  estate,  and  the  kind  assistance  of  her 
brothers,  she  was  nearly  extricated  from  debt,  and 
had  a  moderate  income  left  at  her  disposal,  by 
means  of  which  the  remainder  of  her  debts  was 
gradually  paid. 

But  increase  of  years  had  not  taught  this  amiable 
couple  any  respect  for  the  maxims  of  human  policy  ; 
they  had  grown  old  in  the  world,  but  not  in  the 
world's  ways  :  it  was  their  mutual  wish  to  appro- 
priate a  portion  of  her  income  to  the  support  of 
those  orphans  and  invalids,  who  had  hitherto  found 
a  home  with  her.  This  benevolent  arrangement 
being  made,  they  solemnly  covenanted,  in  the  name 
of  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Spirit,  to  be- 
come one  forever. 

The  marriage  took  place  in  November,  1781  ; 
Mr  Fletcher  was  fifty  two  years  old,  and  she  was 
ten  years  younger.  Throughout  their  married  life, 


MRS    FLETCH  ER.  57 

they  were  inspired  with  a  unity  of  purpose,  and  a 
perfect  sympathy  of  heart ;  so  that  it  seemed  as  if 
their  souls  had  actually  mingled  into  one.  She 
was  his  partner  by  the  fireside,  his  companion  in 
regeneration,  and  his  assistant  in  parochial  duties; 
she  even  shared  in  his  paternal  exhortations  to 
his  flock. 

The  habit  of  public  speaking  among  women 
was  not  generally  approved  among  the  Methodists  ; 
and  she  herself  was  very  diffident  on  the  subject. 
She  tells  us  that  none  but  her  heavenly  Father 
knew  how  much  she  suffered  when  preparing  for 
such  occasions.  The  practice  originated  in  con- 
versations with  her  assembled  family  of  orphans 
and  invalids,  to  which  a  few  neighbors  were  some- 
times added.  By  degrees,  the  zeal  of  others,  and 
a  desire  to  impart  her  religious  enjoyment,  led  her 
to  enlarge  her  sphere  of  action ;  and  when  she 
wrote  to  ask  Mr  Wesley  whether  he  considered  it 
an  unnecessary  departure  from  the  proper  vocation 
of  her  sex,  his  answer  implied  that  he  generally 
disapproved  of  the  practice,  but  he  thought  her  jus- 
tified in  continuing  it,  because  she  was  the  means 
of  doing  great  good.  Mr  Fletcher  was  of  the 
same  opinion  ;  and  whether  he  erred  or  not,  she 
certainly  was  right  in  obeying  her  husband's 
wishes. 

Her  greatest  anxiety,  at  the  time  of  her  marriage, 
seems  to  have  been  that  she  should  not  rightly  per- 
form her  duties  in  a  new  place,  and  among  a  peo- 
ple who  were  strangers  to  her.  When  she  spoke  of 


58  MRS  FLETCHER. 

this  to  Mr  Fletcher,  he  replied,  "  Do  not  encumber 
yourself  on  my  account.  If  we  must  be  thought 
ignorant  and  awkward,  let  us  be  willing  to  submit 
to  it ;  I  require  nothing  of  thee,  my  dear  Polly,  but 
to  be  more  and  more  devoted  to  God." 

The  testimony  of  her  journal  proves  that  there 
was  no  hypocrisy  in  this  assertion.  About  a  year 
after  their  marriage,  she  writes:  "  A  twelvemonth 
ago  I  saw  nothing  before  me,  temporally,  but  ruin  ; 
but  now  my  cup  of  blessing  runs  over,  above  all  I 
could  hope  or  wish  for.  I  have  the  kindest  and 
tenderest  of  husbands  ;  so  spiritual  a  man,  and  so 
spiritual  a  union,  I  never  had  any  adequate  idea  of. 
Oh,  how  does  my  soul  praise  God,  for  his  gracious 
providence  !  What  a  help-mate  he  is  to  me,  and 
how  much  better  do  we  love  one  another  than  we 
did  a  year  ago  !" 

Many  months  afterward,  she  writes  :  "  My  dear 
husband's  health  is  not  good.  What  the  Lord 
will  do  with  us  I  know  not.  When  I  think  of  his 
life,  or  health,  being  in  danger,  I  am  not  anxious 
as  I  used  to  be,  but  can  rest  in  the  love  and  wisdom 
of  my  unchangeable  friend.  For  this  I  praise 
Him,  because  no  words  can  express  the  treasure  I 
possess  in  our  union  ;  and  in  proportion  as  I  get 
nearer  to  God,  I  find  a  daily  increase  of  that  union  ; 
yet  I  am  enabled  so  to  give  him  up  to  the  Lord,  that 
it  holds  my  soul  in  a  quiet  dependence  and  sweet 
adherence  to  the  divine  will." 

Again  she  writes,  "  And  do  we  see  the  anniver- 
sary of  our  blessed  union  yet  another  year?  And 


MRS    FLETCHER.  59 

are  we  yet  more  happy  and  more  tender  toward 
each  other  1  Yes,  glory  be  to  God  !  we  are  ;  and 
what  is  better,  I  can  truly  say,  our  souls  get  nearer 
to  God.  We  are  more  spiritual,  and  live  more  for 
eternity. 

"  The  Lord  has  showed  me  that  he  would  make 
his  will  known  to  me  through  that  of  my  dear  hus- 
band, that  I  was  to  accept  his  directions  as  from 
God,  and  obey  him  as  the  church  does  Christ. 
That  as  I  must  give  myself  to  his  guidance  as  a 
child  ;  and  wherever  we  were  called,  or  however 
employed  in  the  work  of  God,  I  should  always  find 
protection,  while  I  renounced  all  choice,  by  doing 
the  will  of  another  rather  than  my  own." 

Mrs  Fletcher's  health  was  far  from  being  strong, 
and  she  sunk  under  the  fatigues,  which  her  zeal 
imposed  upon  her.  When  they  had  been  married 
a  little  more  than  three  years,  she  was  seized  with 
a  fever  of  a  very  alarming  kind.  At  this  time,  she 
writes,  "  I  had  now  a  fresh  instance  of  the  tender 
care  and  love  of  my  blessed  partner ;  sickness  was 
made  pleasant  by  his  kind  attention."  Having 
promised  to  preach  at  a  place  where  they  had 
always  been  accustomed  to  go  together,  he  was 
constrained  by  her  illness  to  go  alone.  He  was 
deeply  affected,  and  in  his  sermon  talked  much  of 
the  piety  and  excellence  of  his  beloved  wife  ;  his 
affectionate  congregation  sympathized  in  his  feel- 
ings and  joined  in  his  prayers.  When  he  re- 
turned home,  he  said  to  her,  "  My  dear,  I  could 
scarcely  speak  to  the  people.  I  felt,  I  knew  not  how, 


GO  MRS    FLETCHER. 

as  if  thy  empty  chair  stood  by  me.  Something 
seemed  to  say  we  should  soon  be  parted  ;  and  I 
thought,  '  Must  I  meet  these  people,  and  see  her 
empty  chair  always  by  me."  ' 

One  day,  he  said  to  her,  "  My  dear  love,  I  know 
not  how  it  is,  but  I  have  a  strange  impression  death 
is  very  near  us,  as  if  it  be  some  sudden  stroke 
upon  one  of  us  ;  and  it  draws  out  all  my  soul  in 
prayer  that  we  may  be  ready.  Lord,  prepare  the 
soul  thou  wilt  call  ;  and  oh,  stand  by  the  poor  dis- 
consolate one,  who  shall  be  left  behind." 

While  she  was  ill,  he  often,  in  imagination  pass- 
ed through  the  whole  parting  scene,  and  struggled 
for  the  fortitude  of  perfect  resignation.  Sometimes, 
he  would  say,  "  Oh,  must  I  ever  see  the  day  when 
thou  art  carried  out  to  be  buried  1  How  will  the 
little  things  thou  wert  accustomed  to  use,  and  all 
those  which  thy  tender  care  has  prepared  for  me, 
in  every  part  of  the  house,  how  will  the  sight  of 
them  wound  and  distress  me  !" 

But  she  was  the  one  called  to  taste  the  bitter  cup 
of  separation.  Before  she  was  entirely  recovered, 
he  was  likewise  attacked  by  fever.  On  Saturday 
he  was  so  ill,  that  Mrs  Fletcher  begged  he  would 
not  attempt  to  preach ;  but  he  answered  that  lie 
believed  it  to  be  the  will  of  the  Lord  ;  and  in  such 
cases,  she  never  ventured  to  dissuade  him. 

This  last  service  to  his  people  was  an  affecting 
scene.  While  reading  the  prayers,  he  nearly  faint- 
ed away.  His  wife  made  her  way  through  the 
crowd,  and  begged  him  to  come  out  of  the  desk; 


iMRS    FLETCHER.  61 

some  other  friends  did  so  likewise;  but  with  a 
sweet  smile,  he  begged  them  to  desist,  and  riot  in- 
terrupt the  order  of  God.  The  windows  were 
opened,  and  a  friend  having  presented  him  with  a 
bunch  of  fragrant  flowers,  he  was  somewhat  reviv- 
ed.. He  preached  with  a  degree  of  strength  and 
earnestness  that  surprised  his  hearers.  After  the 
sermon,  he  went  to  the  communion-table,  with 
these  words,  "  I  am  going  to  throw  myself  under 
the  wings  of  the  cherubim,  before  the  mercy-seat." 

The  congregation  was  very  large,  and  the  ser- 
vice lasted  long.  He  could  scarcely  stand,  and 
was  often  obliged  to  stop  for  want  of  power  to 
speak.  His  people  were  all  weeping  around  him. 
As  soon  as  the  service  was  over,  he  was  carried  to 
his  bed,  where  he  immediately  fainted  away.  Af- 
ter having  obtained  a  little  refreshing  sleep,  he 
waked  with  a  pleasant  smile,  saying,  "  You  &ee, 
my  dear,  that  I  am  no  worse  for  doing  the  Lord's 
work.  He  never  fails  me  when  1  trust  in  him." 

From  that  time  he  grew  weaker.  His  sorrowing 
wife  prayed  to  the  Lord  to  spare  her  beloved  hus- 
band a  little  longer,  if  it  were  his  good  pleasure  : 
but  she  says,  "  My  prayer  seemed  to  have  no 
wings.  It  was  held  down,  and  I  could  not  help 
continually  mingling  therewith,  '  Lord,  give  me  a 
perfect  resignation.'  This  uncertainty  in  my  own 
mind  made  me  rather- tremble,  lest  the  Lord  was 
about  to  take  the  bitter  cup  out  of  my  dear  hus- 
band's hand,  and  give  it  unto  me." 

One  day  she   said  to  him,  "  My  dear  love,   if  I 


to!  MRS   FLETCHER. 

have  ever  said  or  done  anything  to  grieve  thee,  how 
will  the  remembrance  wound  my  heart'  shouldst 
thou  be  taken  from  me."  With  inexpressible  ten- 
derness he  intreated  her  not  to  admit  such  thoughts, 
declaring  his  great  thankfulness  for  the  enjoyment 
he  had  derived  from  their  perfect  union. 

His  conversation  was  full  of  humility  and  faith. 
When  he  was  nearly  speechless,  he  made  a  sign 
with  his  finger,  saying,  "  When  I  do  this,  you  will 
know  that  I  mean  God  is  love,  and  we  will  draw 
each  other  to  God.  Observe  \  We  will  draw  each 
other  to  God."  This  sign  he  repeated  often,  as 
long  as  he  had  power  to  make  the  motion.  His 
last  prayer,  as  he  affectionately  pressed  the  hanti  of 
his  beloved  partner,  was,  "  Husband  of  the  church, 
be  husband  to  my  wife  \" 

He  died  on  Sunday  night,  after  an  illness  of  nine 
or  ten  days.  His  widow  thus  writes;  "Three 
years,  nine  months,  and  two  days,  I  lived  with  my 
heavenly-minded  husband  ;  but  now  the  sun  of  my 
earthly  joy  is  set  forever,  and  my  soul  filled  with 
anguish,  which  only  finds  consolation  in  total  resig- 
nation to  the  will  of  God.  When  I  was  asking  the 
Lord  if  he  pleased  to  spare  him  tome  a  little  longer, 
the  following  answer  was  impressed  on  my  mind 
with  great  power  r '  Where  I  am,  there  shall  my  ser- 
vants be,  that  they  may  behold  my  glory.'  In  the 
accomplishment  of  this  worti  of  promise  I  look  for 
our  reunion.  It  explained  itself  thus :  that  in 
Christ's  immediate  presence  was  our  home,  and 
that  in  being  deeply  centred  in  him  we  should'  be 


MRS  FLETCHER.  63 

re-united.  I  received  it  as  a  fresh  marriage  for 
eternity.  Whenever  I  thought  of  this  expression, 
'  to  behold  my  glory/  it  seemed  to  wipe  away  every 
tear,  and  was  as  the  ring  by  which  we  were  joined 
anew.  As  such  I  trust  forever  to  hold  it." 

"  The  day  after  he  died,  it  occurred  to  my  mind 
that  before  we  were  married  some  letters  passed 
between  us,  which  he  had  often  told  me  I  had  better 
burn  ;  saying,  '  Thou  puttest  it  off;  and  if  one  of  us 
should  die,  it  will  almost  kill  the  other  to  do  it  then.' 
Yet,  being  loath  to  part  with  them,  I  had  neglected 
to  do  it;  but  now  being  seized  with  a  kind  of 
palsy,  and  loss  of  memory,  I  thought,  perhaps  in 
another  day  I  may  not  be  able  to  do  it,  and  then  I 
shall  be  unfaithful  to  my  dear  husband's  command. 
The  third  day,  therefore,  I  carried  them  to  the  fire. 
But  oh,  what  did  I  feel  !  I  could  not  even  avoid 
seeing  some  of  the  tender  expressions  they  contain- 
ed, which  were  now  as  barbed  arrows  to  my  heart." 

"I,  who  have  known  him  most  perfectly,  am 
constrained  to  declare  that  I  never  knew  any  one 
walk  so  closely  in  the  ways  of  God  as  he  did. 
The  Lord  gave  him  a  conscience  tender  as  the 
apple  of  an  eye.  He  literally  preferred  the  interest 
of  every  one  to  his  own.  He  was  rigidly  just,  but 
perfectly  loose  from  all  attachment  to  the  world. 
He  shared  all  he  had  with  the  poor ;  who  lay  so 
close  to  his  heart,  that  even  when  he  could  not 
speak  without  difficulty,  he  cried  out,  '  What  will 
become  of  my  poor  !'  He  bore  with  all  my  faults 
and  failings  in  a  manner  that  continually  reminded 


64  MRS    FLETCHER. 

me  of  the  injunction,  '  Love  your  wives,  as  Christ 
loved  the  church.'  His  constant  endeavor  was  to 
make  me  happy ;  his  strongest  desire  my  spiritual 
growth.  He  was,  in  every  sense  of  the  word,  the 
man  my  highest  reason  chose  to  obey." 

This  testimony  is  corroborated  by  all  who  have 
spoken  of  Mr  Fletcher,  either  as  a  minister,  or  as  a 
man.  When  some  French  people  were  asked  why 
they  went  to  hear  a  man  whose  language  they  could 
not  understand,  they  answered,  "  We  went  to  look 
at  him  ;  for  heaven  seemed  to  beam  from  his  coun- 
tenance." 

His  disconsolate  widow,  speaking  of  her  loss, 
says,  "  My  anguish  was  extreme.  All  outward 
support  seemed  to  be  withdrawn ;  appetite  and 
sleep  quite  failed  ;  and  even  the  air,  I  often 
thought,  had  lost  its  vivifying  power.  As  I  never 
before  had  any  just  conception  of  the  bitter  anguish 
with  which  the  Lord  saw  good  to  visit  me  at  this 
season,  so  1  can  give  no  just  description  of  it. 
'  Known  unto  God  are  all  his  ways ;'  and  I  was 
assured,  even  in  the  midst  of  my  trouble,  that  all 
he  did  was  well,  and  that  there  was  a  needs  be  for 
this  heavy  trial.  All  my  religion  seemed  shrunk 
into  one  point;  a  constant  cry,  'Thy  will  be 
done.'" 

Her  greatest  consolation,  and  the  one  to  which 
her  mind  constantly  recurred,  was  in  the  idea  that 
her  beloved  husband  was  still  with  her.  She  says, 
"  Perhaps  he  is  nearer  to  me  than  ever.  Perhaps 
he  sees  me  continually,  and,  under  God,  guards  and 


MRS    FLETCHER.  65 

keeps  me.  Perhaps  he  knows  my  very  thoughts. 
These  reflections,  though  under  a  perhaps,  give  me 
some  help.  Could  they  be  confirmed  by  reason, 
and  above  all  by  Scripture,  they  would  yield  me 
much  consolation.  I  will  try  if  I  can  find  this  solid 
ground  for  them.  It  does  not  appear  to  me  at  all 
contrary  to  reason  to  believe  that  happy  departed 
spirits  see  and  know  all  they  would  wish,  and  are 
divinely  permitted  to  know  ;  and  that  they  are  con- 
cerned for  the  dear  fellow  pilgrims,  whom  they 
have  left  behind.  I  cannot  but  believe  they  are. 
Though  death  is  a  boundary  we  cannot  see  through, 
they  who  have  passed  the  gulf  may  see  us.  Some 
small  insects  can  see  but  a  little  way  ;  an  apple 
would  appear  to  them  a  mountain  ;  but  we  can  see 
a  thousand  of  them  crawling  at  once,  on  what  we 
call  a  small  spot  of  earth.  When  an  infant  is 
brought  into  the  world,  how  many  senses,  till  then 
locked  up,  are  brought  into  action  !  There  was  an 
apparent  separation  from  the  mother  ;  but  every 
day  increases  its  ability  of  entering  into  her 
thoughts,  and  bearing  a  part  in  all  her  feelings. 
And  may  we  not  suppose  that  some  powers,  analo- 
gous to  sight  and  hearing,  are  equally  opened  on 
the  entrance  of  a  spirit  into  a  heavenly  state ;  though, 
like  the  infant,  perhaps  small  in  the  beginning, 
compared  with  the  measure  that  is  to  follow  ? 
Are  not  these  reasonable  ideas  strengthened  by 
various  passages  of  Scripture  1 

"  When  Elijah  laid  himself  down  to  sleep  under  a 
juniper  tree  in  the  desert,  an  angel  bade  him  arise 
5 


66  MRS   FLETCHER. 

and  eat  the  food  a  watchful  Providence  had  provi- 
ded for  him.  The  prophet  did  not,  like  Daniel  fall 
down  as  one  dead  ;  nor,  like  Zachariah  and  the 
shepherds,  become  sore  afraid ;  after  a  moderate 
repast  he  slept  again,  and  received  a  second  visit 
from  his  bright  messenger  with  the  same  steady 
calmness  as  before.  From  which  I  am  led  to  sup- 
pose that  Elijah  was  accustomed  to  such  communi- 
cations." 

"  If  there  be  joy  in  the  realms  above  '  over  one 
sinner  that  repenteth,  more  than  over  ninety  and 
nine  which  went  not  astray,'  how  evident  it  is  that 
the  state  of  both  individuals  must  be  known  there. 
The  spirit  of  my  dear  husband  loved  and  cared  for 
me,  and  longed  above  every  other  desire  for  my 
spiritual  advancement.  If  it  were  the  body,  why 
doth  it  not  love  me  still  1  Because  that  which 
loved  me  is  gone  from  it.  And  what  is  that  but 
the  spirit,  which  actuated  the  body,  as  clock-work 
does  the  hand  that  tells  the  hour  ?  As  spiritual 
union  arises  from  a  communication  of  the  love 
which  flows  from  Jesus  Christ,  I  cannot  but  believe 
that  a  fuller  measure  of  that  divine  principle  must 
increase,  not  diminish,  the  union  between  kindred 
souls ;  and  that  their  change  will  not  consist  in 
the  loss,  but  in  the  improvement  of  all  good  affec- 
tions. 

"  We  are  now  in  the  body,  and  have  senses  and 
faculties  suited  thereto ;  and  may  not  spirits  have 
faculties  suited  to  spirits,  by  which  they  can  as  ea- 
sily discern  your  soul,  as  you  could  perceive  their 


MRS    FLETCHER.  67 

bodies,  if  they  were  in  the  same  state  of  existence 
as  yourself?  If  you  had  never  heard  of  a  looking- 
glass,  would  you  understand  me  if  I  said,  '  Though 
you  stand  at  one  end  of  that  long  gallery,  and  I  at 
the  other,  with  my  back  toward  you,  I  can  discern 
your  every  action  and  motion  ?'  Yet  such  a  know- 
ledge the  looking-glass  would  convey  to  me. 
Now  if  all  things  on  earth  are  patterns  and  sha- 
dows of  those  above,  may  not  something  analogous 
to  the  glass  represent  to  the  world  of  spirits  as  just 
a  picture  of  the  changes  of  posture  in  the  spirit  aa 
the  glass  does  those  of  the  body  ?  That  the  appear- 
ance of  souls  still  in  the  body  may  be  seen  in  hea- 
ven, withoutthe  knowledge  of  the  person  concerned, 
is  evident ;  because  Ananias  knew  not  that  Saul 
had  ever  seen  or  heard  of  him,  until  God  said  to 
to  him,  '  Behold  he  prayeth ;  and  hath  seen  in  a 
vision  a  man  named  Ananias  coming  in,  and  put- 
ting his  hand  on  him,  that  he  may  receive  hig 
sight.' 

"  God,  both  in  his  nature  and  his  works,  is  perfect 
unity.  Division  never  comes  from  Him.  His  origi- 
nal design  for  our  first  parents  was  not  sorrow,  con- 
sequently not  separation.  If  we  suppose  their 
friendship  was  not  to  have  been  immortal,  we  must 
suppose  pain  to  be  in  paradise." 

At  the  first  return  of  the  anniversary  of  her  hus- 
band's death,  she  writes  in  her  journal,  "  I  was 
led  to  reflect  on  my  union  with  my  dear  husband, 
and  saw  how  much  of  the  heavenly  state  we  had 
enjoyed  together ;  and  it  seemed  as  if  I  so  longed 


68  MRS  FLETCHER. 

to  give  up  all  for  God,  that  I  offered  up  to  his  divine 
will  even  our  eternal  union,  if  it  were  so  in  reality, 
as  many  suppose,  that  spirits  forget  all  they  have 
known  and  loved  here.  Then  the  question  arose 
'  What  part  of  our  union  can  heaven  dissolve  ?  It 
will  take  away  all  that  was  painful,  such  as  our 
fears  for  each  other's  safety,  our  separations,  &/c. 
But  what  of  the  pleasant  part  can  heaven  dissolve?' 
I  answered,  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart,  '  Nothing, 
Lord,  nothing  !'  Clear  as  light  it  appeared  to  me 
that  heaven  could  not  dissolve  anything  which 
agreed  with  its  own  nature.  What  came  down 
from  God,  would,  when  returned  to  its  source,  live 
forever,  and  be  corroborated,  but  not  lessened. 

"  I  am  quite  at  a  loss  for  words  to  describe  the 
feelings  of  that  hour ;  but  it  fixed  in  my  soul  an 
assurance  of  our  eternal  union." 

Some  time  after,  she  writes  :  "  Last  night  I  had 
a  powerful  sense,  in  my  sleep,  of  the  presence  of 
my  dear  husband.  I  felt  such  a  sweet  communion 
with  his  spirit  as  gave  me  much  peaceful  feeling. 
I  had  for  some  days  thought  that  I  ought  to  resist, 
more  than  I  did,  that  lively  remembrance  of  vari- 
ous scenes  in  his  last  illness,  and  many  other  cir- 
cumstances, which  frequently  occurred  with  much 
pain.  This  thought  being  present  to  my  mind,  I 
looked  on  him.  He  said,  with  a  most  sweet  smile, 
'  It  is  better  to  forget.'  '  What,'  said  I,  '  my  dear 
love,  to  forget  one  another  ?'  He  replied  with  in- 
expressible sweetness,  '  It  is  better  to  forget ;  it 
will  not  be  long  ;  we  shall  not  be  parted  long  ;  we 


MRSFLETCHER,  69 

shall  soon  meet  again.'  He  then  signified,  though 
not  in  words,  that  all  weights  ought  to  be  laid  aside. 
His  presence  continued  till  I  awoke." 

A  long  time  after,  it  is  written  in  her  journal  : 
"  This  day  five  years  my  beloved  was  on  his  death 
bed.  And  how  is  it  with  me  now  ?  I  answer 
from  my  heart,  '  It  is  well.'  I  love  him  at  this 
moment  as  well  as  I  ever  did  in  my  life  ;  but  I  love 
the  will  of  God  still  better.  I  adore  thee,  my  Al- 
mighty Saviour,  that  thou  hast  done  thine  own  will, 
and  not  mine  !  and  that  rny  dearest  love  has  been 
five  years  in  glory.  O,  that  1  might  be  permitted 
to  feel  a  little  of  what  he  now  is.  Lord,  are  we  not 
one  1  '  The  head  of  the  woman  is  the  man,  as  the 
head  of  the  man  is  Christ ;'  and  '  whom  God  hath 
joined  together  none  can  put  asunder.'  We  are 
yet  one  ;  and  shall  I  not  feel  a  communication  from 
thyself  passing  through  that  channel  ?  Lord  make 
me  spiritually  minded  —  '  meet  to  partake  the  in- 
heritance of  the  saints  in  light.' 

"  Last  night  I  prayed  I  might  not  have  so  dis- 
turbed a  night  as  I  have  found  of  late,  but  that  the 
Lord  would  keep  away  those  hurrying  dreams, 
which  often  disturb  the  quiet  repose  of  my  spirit. 
And  it  was  so;  1  found  a  difference.  About  the 
middle  of  the  night  I  saw  my  dear  husband  before 
me.  We  ran  into  each  other's  arms.  I  wished  to 
ask  him  several  questions  concerning  holiness,  and 
the  degree  to  be  expected  here,  &,c.  But  I  found 
something  like  a  dark  cloud  on  my  memory,  so 
that  I  said  in  myself,  '  I  cannot  frame  the  question 


70  MRS    FLETCHER . 

I  would  ask ;  I  am  not  permitted.'  At  length  f 
asked,  '  My  dear,  do  you  not  visit  me  sometimes?' 
He  answered,  'Many  times  a  day.'  'But,'  said  I, 
'  do  not  principalities  and  powers  strive  to  binder 
you  from  communing  with  me  ?'  He  said,  '  There 
is  something  in  that.'  '  And  does  their  opposition 
cause  you  to  suffer  in  coming  to  me?'  He  re- 
plied, '  There  is  not  much  in  that.'  '  Do  you  know 
every  material  thing  that  occurs  to  me  ?'  '  Yes.' 
'  And  may  I  always  know  that  thou  art  near  me, 
when  I  am  in  trouble,  or  pain,  or  danger?'  He 
paused,  and  said  faintly,  '  Why,  yes  ;'  then  added, 
'  but  it  is  well  for  thee  not  to  know  it,  for  thy  reli- 
ance must  not  be  upon  me.'  He  mentioned  also 
some  in  glory  who  remembered  me — and  said, 
'  Mr  Hey  is  with  us  also ;  he  bade  me  tell  thee  so  ; 
and  by  that  thou  mayest  know  it  is  I  who  speak  to 
thee.'  Mr  Hey  died  a  short  time  before,  very  hap- 
py in  the  Lord." 

Old  age  came  upon  Mrs  Fletcher  with  a  compli- 
cation of  bodily  diseases,  among  which  were  dropsy 
and  cancer.  Speaking  of  this,  she  says  :  I  "  discern 
the  near  approach  of  dissolution,  and  am  daily 
made  sensible  of  decay.  But  these  symptoms  give 
me  no  dreary  prospect.  The  will  of  God  is  my 
choice,  in  whatsoever  way  it  manifests  itself.  I  feel 
a  bleeding  wound  from  the  loss  of  that  dearest  and 
best  of  men.  But  I  am  conscious  he  is  not  dead  ! 
'  He  that  believeth  in  Jesus  shall  never  die.'  The 
will  of  God  is  so  dear  to  me,  I  rejoice  that  it  is 
done  ;  though  against  my  tenderest  feelings. 


MRS     FLETCHER.  71 

"  I  have  communion  with  my  dearest  love  before 
the  throne.  He  waits  for  me  —  he  beckons  me 
away.  I  want  to  be  a  meet  partaker  with  my  dear, 
dear,  holy  husband,  now  in  light.  I  want  to  feel,  a 
fuller  degree  of  the  spirit  in  which  he  lives.  O, 
Lord,  thou  knowest  our  union  was  far  more  in  the 
spirit  than  in  the  flesh  ;  thou  hast  said,  '  What  God 
hath  joined  together,  let  no  man  put  asunder.'  Are 
we  not  still  one  ?" 

Again  she  writes :  'f  This  has  been  a  solemn 
day.  Eight  years  ago  I  was,  at  this  hour,  waiting 
by  his  bedside,  with  my  eyes  fixed  on  his  dear, 
calm,  peaceful,  dying  countenance.  I  have  this 
day  gone  through  the  scene  ;  but  glory  be  to  God, 
in  a  different  manner  than  when  we  seemed  on  the 
point  of  separation.  This  day  it  has  been  constant- 
ly on  my  mind  as  if  we  thought  and  did  all  together. 
Yes,  thou  dear  spirit,  well  didst  thou  say  to  me  in  a 
dream,  '  I  am  not  dead  —  I  live.'  Yes,  thou  dost 
live  ;  and  I  have  no  doubt  hast  helped  me  this  day 
to  feel  an  uncommon  peace,  such  as  I  sometimes 
have  felt  when  dreaming,  having  in  a  peculiar 
manner  a  sense  of  the  presence  of  heavenly  spirits. 
There  are  seasons  when  the  mind,  joining  itself  to 
the  Lord,  feels  a  kind  of  anticipation  of  the  bliss- 
ful union  enjoyed  in  the  realms  of  light,  and  has 
communion,  more  or  less  sensible,  with  the  spirits 
before  the  throne.  Some  faint  touches  of  this  I  have 
felt  this  day." 

A  long  time  after,  on  the  anniversary  of  her 
wedding,  she  thus  continues  her  journal  :  "  How 


72  MRS     FLETCHER. 

different  was  my  state  this  day  fourteen  years,  when 
1  first  became  a  wife !  How  tossed  was  my  mind 
with  a  thousand  fears,  not  yet  fully  knowing  '  the 
angel  of  the  church,'  to  whom  I  was  joined  ;  and 
also  encumbered  with  various  temporal  difficulties. 
But  now  there  is  not  one  clog  left.  My  dear  love's 
blessing  does  rest  upon  me.  The  husband  of  the 
church  is  indeed  my  husband ;  and  mercy  with 
overflowing  goodness  follow  me  all  the  day  long. 
When  Sally*  or  myself,  visited  the  poor,  and  be- 
held great  straits,  we  have  sometimes  been  con- 
strained to  withhold  help,  because  my  calculation 
would  not  allow  it,  though  I  had  cut  off  what  ex- 
perrse  I  could,  according  to  my  best  light.  This 
I  laid  before  the  Lord,  and  felt  thoroughly  content 
either  to  help  or  not.  In  a  few  days  I  received  a 
letter  from  my  brother  with  a  proposal  so  to  dis- 
pose of  a  part  of  my  money,  as  was  likely  to  raise 
me  several  additional  pounds  this  year.  A  person 
also  called  and  promised  the  payment  of  five 
guineas,  which  I  had  quite  given  up  for  lost.  In  a 
variety  of  little  incidents,  I  have  discerned  such  a 
guiding  hand  of  Providence,  as  hourly  confirms  the 
truth  of  that  word,  '  The  hairs  of  your  head  are  all 
numbered." ' 

The  infirmities  of  age  and  disease  crowded  fast 
upon  this  venerable  Christian.  Her  zeal  and  be- 
nevolence continued  unabated,  but  the  suffering 
body  could  no  longer  obey  the  dictates  of  the  prri- 

*A  failhful  and  valued  domestic. 


MRS    FLETCHER .  73 

fied  spirit.  She  complains  that  she  could  "  not  see 
to  write  half  what  she  felt  in  her  heart."  Through 
her  whole  life,  her  kindness  to  the  afflicted  and  the 
destitute  knew  no  bounds;  she  wanted  to  relieve 
all  the  misery  there  was  in  creation.  Her  book  of 
expenses  gave  a  striking  proof  how  little  she  re- 
quired for  herself,  and  how  entirely  she  lived  for 
others.  The  yearly  sum  she  expended  upon  her 
own  person  never  amounted  to  Jive  pounds ;  while 
her  annual  expenditure  for  the  poor  was  never  less 
than  one  h-mdred  and  eighty  pounds.  She  was  ac- 
customed to  say,  "  It  is  not  important  what  we  have, 
but  how  we  use  it." 

The  same  simplicity  of  heart,  and  consequent 
clearness  of  faith,  continued  to  the  last.  She  says, 
"I  have  given  my  hand  to  God,  as  a  child  to  its 
mother,  and  he  leads  me  hour  by  hour." 

The  last  mention  she  makes  of  her  husband  is 
as  follows  :  "  I  feel  death  very  near.  My  body  is 
full  of  infirmities  ;  yet  I  am  able  to  creep  through 
each  day,  and  to  work  a  little  in  my  Lord's  vine- 
yard. This  day,  September  twelfth,  I  am  seventy- 
six  years  old,  and  the  same  day  my  dear  husband 
would  have  been  eightysix.  It  is  nearly  thirty 
four  years  since  our  blessed  union.  It  seerns  but 
yesterday  ;  and  he  is  as  near  an  d  dear  as  ever. 
Surely  we  shall  remember  the  scenes  we  have  had 
together.  Oh,  my  God  and  Father,  enable  me  to 
walk  in  thy  presence  !  Give  me  power  to  cleave  to 
thee  every  moment  I  feel  the  powers  of  darkness 
are  vehemently  strivino-  to  distract  and  hinder  me. 


74  MRS     FLETCHER. 

My  soul  doth  wait,  and  long  to  fly  to  the  bosom  of 
my  God." 

Three  months  after  she  wrote  this,  she  "  slept  in 
Jesus."  She  died,  in  peace  and  joy,  on  the  ninth 
of  December,  1815,  and  her  spirit  joined  her 
husband  in  that  world,  where  all  that  is  pure  in 
human  affection,  becomes  the  immortal  love  of 
angels,  and  shares  the  eternity  of  God. 


LADY    FANSHAWE, 

WIFE    OF    SIR    RICHARD    FAXSHAWE. 

ANN  HARRISOH  was  the  eldest  daughter  of  Sir 
John  Harrison  of  Balls,  in  England  ;  her  mother, 
Margaret  Fanshawe,  was  of  an  ancient  and  highly 
respectable  family,  the  members  of  which  had  at 
various  times  filled  important  official  situations. 
The  young  lady  was  born  in  London,  March  25, 
1625.  Mr  Hyde,  afterward  Lord  Clarendon,  was 
her  godfather.  She  herself  relates  a  remarkable 
story  connected  with  her  infancy.  When  she  was 
about  three  months  old,  her  mother  became  alarm- 
ingly ill  with  a  fever,  of  which  she  apparently  died, 
She  had  been  in  her  shroud  two  days  and  a  night, 
when'  Dr  Winston  came  on  a  visit  of  consolation  to 
his  friend  Sir  John  Harrison.  Looking  earnestly 
at  the  corpse,  the  physician  said,  "  She  appears 
so  beautiful,  that  I  cannot  believe  she  is  dead  ; 
and  suddenly  applying  a  lancet  to  her  foot,  the 
blood  began  to  flow.  The  application  of  pow- 
erful restoratives  renewed  the  suspended  func- 
tions of  animal  life.  When  she  opened  her  eyes, 
her  relatives,  Lady  Kiwrilys  and  Lady  Russell,  were 


76  LADY    FANSHAWE, 

bending  over  her.  According  to  the  fashion  of  the 
times,  they  wore  large,  wide,  sleeves,  which  might 
easily  be  mistaken  for  wings.  Lady  Harrison's 
first  exclamation  was,  "  Did  you  not  promise  me 
fifteen  years?  and  have  you  corne  again?"  Her 
friends  attributed  these  words  to  the  delirium  of  ex- 
ceeding weakness,  and  begged  her  to  keep  very 
quiet.  When  several  hours  had  elapsed,  and  her 
faculties  were  perfectly  restored,  she  desired  to  be 
left  alone  with  her  husband,  and  Dr  Howlsworth, 
their  clergyman.  When  her  request  had  been 
complied  with,  she  said,  ".During  my  trance  I  was 
in  great  quiet,  but  in  a  place  I  could  neither  dis- 
tinguish nor  describe.  The  idea  of  leaving  my 
little  girl  remained  a  trouble  upon  my  spirits.  Sud- 
denly I  saw  two  by  me,  clothed  in  long  white  gar- 
ments, and  methought  I  fell  down  with  my  face  in 
the  dust.  They  asked  me  why  I  was  sad  in  the 
midst  of  so  great  happiness.  I  replied,  '  O,  let 
me  have  the  same  grant  given  to  Hezekiah,  that  I 
may  live  fifteen  years,  to  see  my  daughter  a  wo- 
man.' They  answered,  '  It  is  done  :'  and  at  that 
instant,  I  awoke  out  of  my  trance." 

This  excellent  woman  recovered  her  health  en- 
tirely, and  lived,  as  she  had  ever  done,  in  the  con- 
stant exercise  of  piety  and  benevolence.  She  died 
on  the  20th  day  of  July,  1640,  exactly  fifteen  years 
from  the  period  of  her  trance.  Dr  Howlsworth 
preached  her  funeral  sermon,  in  which  he  told,  be- 
fore hundreds  of  people,  tlje  remarkable  story  we 
have  just  related. 


LADY     FANSHAWE.  77 

Ann  Harrison  was  educated  like  most  gentle- 
women of  that  period  ;  being  well  instructed  in 
French,  music,  dancing,  and  every  variety  of  orna- 
mental needle-work.  Blessed  with  vigorous  health, 
and  overflowing  with  animal  spirits,  she  was  gay 
even  to  wildness  ;  but  though  she  delighted  in  rid- 
ing, running,  and  all  manner  of  active  exercises, 
her  manners  were  far  removed  from  anything  like 
boldness,  or  immodesty. 

The  death  of  her  good  mother  checked  the 
somewhat  excessive  vivacity  of  her  character,  and 
placed  a  salutary  restraint  upon  the  thoughtless 
freedom  of  her  youth.  At  fifteen  years  of  age  she 
took  charge  of  her  father's  house  and  family,  and 
fulfilled  her  duties  in  a  manner  highly  exemplary. 

At  this  period  all  England  was  troubled  with  the 
disputes  between  the  King  and  Parliament,  which 
afterward  terminated  so  fatally  for  the  injudicious 
monarch.  Sir  John  Harrison  was  a  devoted  royal- 
ist, and  of  course  became  deeply  involved  in  the 
difficulties  and  dangers  of  those  perilous  times. 
His  son,  William  Harrison,  being  a  member  of  the 
House  of  Commons,  in  1641,  pledged  his  father  to 
lend  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  pounds,  to 
pay  the  Scots,  who  had  then  entered  England  ;  and 
this  immense  debt  remained  unpaid  until  the  re- 
storation of  Charles  the  Second.  In  1042,  Sir 
John  Harrison  was  taken  prisoner  at  his  residence, 
called  Montague  House,  in  Bishopgate  Street,  Lon- 
don. His  dwelling  was  plundered  of  everything 
valuable,  and  he  was  threatened  with  being  sent 


78  LAUYFANSHAWE. 

on  board  ship  with  many  others  of  the  nobility. 
Upon  the  pretence  of  obtaining  certain  writings 
relating  to  the  public  revenue,  he  made  his  escape. 
In  1643  he  went  to  Oxford,  and  was  a  member  of 
the  Long  Parliament,  by  means  of  which  he  lost 
the  remainder  of  his  fortune,  and  all  his  estates 
were  sequestered.  His  two  daughters  resided  with 
him  at  Oxford,  in  miserably  uncomfortable  lodg- 
ings. These  young  ladies,  who  had  from  infancy 
been  accustomed  to  all  the  elegance  and  luxury  of 
wealth,  were  suddenly  reduced  to  such  poverty  that 
they  had  scarcely  a  change  of  clothing,  and  were 
obliged  to  sleep  on  a  hard  bed  in  a  wretched  garret. 
Surrounded  by  companions  in  distress,  by  sickness 
in  various  forms,  and  hearing  of  nothing  but  the 
horrid  chances  of  civil  war,  their  situation  must 
have  been  desolate  indeed  ;  yet  the  unfortunate 
loyalists  are  said  to  have  borne  all  their  privations 
and  sufferings  with  a  cheerful  fortitude  worthy  of 
a  better  cause  and  a  happier  fate. 

At  this  period  Charles  the  First,  who  had  noth- 
ing but  empty  honors  to  bestow,  offered  a  baron- 
etcy to  Sir  John  Harrison;  it  was  gratefully  refused 
upon  the  plea  that  he  w«  too  poor  to  support  the 
dignities  he  already  possessed.  William  Harrison, 
who  had  joined  the  king  when  he  set  up  his  stand- 
ard at  Nottingham,  died  in  1644,  in  consequence  of 
*a  fall  from  his  horse,  which  was  shot  under  him  in 
a  skirmish  with  a  party  of  the  Earl  of  Essex. 
Not  long  after  her  brother's  death,  Ann  Harrison 
was  married  to  Mr  Richard  Fanshawe,  one  of  the 


LADY    FANSHAWE.  79 

relatives  of  her  mother's  family.  The  bride  was  a 
little  more  than  nineteen,  the  bridegroom  about 
thittysix.  The  wedding  was  very  private  ;  none 
being  present  but  her  nearest  relations,  her  god- 
father, Sir  Edward  Hyde,  and  Sir  Geoffry  Palmer, 
the  King's  attorney.  Mrs  Fanshawe  was  married 
with  her  mother's  wedding  ring,  according  to  the 
express  desire  of  her  deceased  parent. 

Richard  Fanshawe  had  been  educated  a  lawyer, 
in  compliance  with  the  wishes  of  his  mother  ; 
but  the  study  was  ever  disagreeable  to  him, 
and  when  her  death  left  him  master  of  his  own 
actions,  he  indulged  his  strong  inclination  to  travel 
in  foreign  countries.  He  went  to  Paris  with  no 
greater  supply  of  cash  than  five  pounds  ;  but  it 
proved  luckly  for  him  that  some  of  his  wealthy  re- 
lations were  residing  in  that  city.  The  very  night 
he  arrived,  two  friars  came  to  his  lodgings,  wel- 
comed him  as  their  countryman,  and  invited  him  to 
play.  The  inexperienced  young  man,  suspecting 
no  mischief,  agreed  to  amuse  himself  in  this  way 
until  supper  was  ready.  The  cunning  friars  did 
not  leave  him  a  single  penny  ;  but  when  they  found 
he  had  no  means  of  pajing  for  his  supper  and 
lodgings,  they  loaned  him  five  pieces  of  his  money, 
till  he  could  apply  to  some  of  his  friends  for  assist- 
ance. This  lesson  was  never  forgotten  ;  during  the 
remainder  of  his  life,  nothing  could  tempt  him  to 
play  for  money.  Seven  years  after  this  incident, 
Mr  Fanshawe  being  in  company  with  several 
gentlemen  in  Huntingdonshire,  was  introduced 


80  LADY    FA  NSH  AWE. 

to  Captain  Taller,  in  whom,  notwithstanding 
his  wig,  scarlet  cloak,  and  buff  suit,  he  immediate- 
ly recognised  one  of  the  Jesuits  that  cheated  him. 
He  offered  the  pretended  captain  the  five  pieces  of 
money,  saying,  "  Friar  Sherwood,  I  know  you,  and 
you  know  the  meaning  of  this."  The  astonished 
knave  begged  him  to  keep  the  secret,  for  his  life 
was  in  danger. 

After  a  year's  stay  in  Paris,  Mr  Fanshawe  went  to 
Madrid.  When  he  had  been  several  years  abroad, 
he  was  made  secretary  to  Lord  Aston,  then  ambas- 
sador to  Spain.  When  the  minister  returned  to 
England,  he  was  left  resident  until  a  new  ambassa- 
dor was  appointed ;  and  very  soon  after  he  set  off 
for  his  native  country.  On  this  journey,  a  Spanish 
inn,  where  he  lodged,  took  fire  in  the  night.  He 
was  very  weary,  and  slept  so  soundly  that  all  the 
noise  and  confusion  around  him  did  not  awaken 
him.  The  honest  landlord  carried  him  out  and 
placed  him  on  a  timber  by  the  wayside,  with  his 
portmanteau  and  clothes  beside  him.  When  he 
awoke,  he  missed  nothing  but  the  house,  which 
was  burnt  to  the  ground. 

He  arrived  in  England  in  1038.  His  patrimony, 
which  was  not  large,  had  been  nearly  expended  in 
his  travels;  and  as  one  of  the  queen's  Catholic 
favorites  was  his  determined  enemy,  he  did  not 
easily  obtain  any  office.  At  length,  he  was  appoint- 
ed Secretary  of  War  to  the  Prince,  and  received  a 
promise  from  Charles  the  First  that  he  should  be 
preferred  to  some  more  lucrative  situation,  as  soon 
as  opportunity  offered. 


LADY    FANS  H  AWE.  81 

At  the  time  of  Mr  Fanshawe's  marriage  with  his 
fair  relative  both  his  fortune  and  hers  were  in  ex- 
pectation. Their  union  indicated  a  degree  of  trust 
in  Divine  Providence,  which  is  but  too  rare  among 
the  young  and  ambitious.  She  says,  "  We  might 
truly  be  called  merchant  adventurers,  for  the  stock 
we  set  up  our  trading  with  did  not  amount  to  twen- 
ty pounds  betwixt  us  ;  but  it  was  to  us  as  a  little 
piece  of  armor  is  against  a  bullet,  which  if  it  be 
right  placed,  though  no  bigger  than  a  shilling, 
serves  as  well  as  a  whole  suit  of  armor.  Our 
stock  bought  pen,  ink  and  paper,  which  was  your 
father's  trade,  and  by  it  I  assure  you  we  lived  bet- 
ter than  those  who  were  born  to  two  thousand 
pounds  a  year,  as  long  as  he  had  his  liberty." 

In  March,  1G45,  the  duties  of  his  office  called 
Mr  Fanshawe  to  Bristol.  Their  eldest  son  be- 
ing but  a  few  days  old,  Mrs  Fanshawe  was 
unable  to  accompany  him.  This  was  their  first 
separation,  and  it  took  place  under  circumstances 
that  added  to  its  bitterness.  They  were  in  poverty, 
in  a  garrison  town,  she  was  extremely  weak,  and 
her  babe  was  dying.  Her  husband,  though  natur- 
ally a  firm  man,  was  affected  even  to  tears. 

Mrs-  Fanshawe  was  not,  however,  without  con- 
solation. It  is  not  in  the  power  of  fate  to  make  a 
true-hearted  woman  miserable,  while  she  is  blessed 
with  the  love  and  confidence  of  a  kind  husband. 

The  babe  died,  and  the  mother  continued  very 
ill  for  several  weeks  ;  but  the  attentions  of  her 
father  and  sister,  aided  by  frequent  and  afiection- 
G 


82  LADY    FANS  HA  WE. 

ate  letters  from  her  husband,  at  last  restored  the 
sufferer  to  comparative  health. 

In  May,  she  received  fifty  pieces  of  gold  from  Mr 
Fanshawe,  with  a  letter  stating  that  men  and  horses 
would  be  sent  to  enable  her  to  come  to  him.  Her 
joy  and  gratitude  on  this  occasion  knew  no  bounds. 
She  says  the  gold  she  received  when  she  was  ready 
to  perish  did  not  revive  her  half  so  much  as  the 
summons  to  meet  her  dearly  beloved  partner.  She 
went  into  the  garden  to  inform  her  father  of  the 
glad  tidings  she  had  received.  While  they  were 
expressing  their  mutual  pleasure,  drums  were 
heard  in  the  highway,  under  the  garden  wall.  It 
was  a  company  of  foot,  commanded  by  one  of  their 
friends,  and  her  father  asked  if  she  would  like  to 
see  them  pass.  She  assented  to  the  proposition, 
and  not  being  very  strong,  leaned  against  a  tree  for 
support.  The  officer,  seeing  Sir  John  Harrison 
and  his  daughter,  ordered  a  volley  of  shot  to  be 
fired  as  a  compliment.  One  of  the  muskets 
chanced  to  be  loaded,  and  a  brace  of  bullets  lodg- 
ed in  the  tree,  not  two  inches  above  Mrs  Fan- 
shawe's  head. 

The  next  week  she  and  her  relative  started  for 
Bristol,  full  of  hope  and  cheerfulness.  The  whole 
country  was  in  arms,  and  the  party  would  in  all  prob- 
ability have  been  taken  prisoners,  had  not  a  troop 
of  horse  escorted  them  through  the  most  danger- 
ous part  of  their  route.  They  arrived  at  Bris- 
tol in  safety,  and  were  received  by  Mr  Fanshawe 
with  open  arms.  He  gave  his  wife  a  hundred 


LADVT   FANSHAWE.  83 

pieces  of  gold,  saying,  "  I  know  that  she,  who 
keeps  my  heart  so  well,  will  keep  my  fortune. 
From  this  time,  I  will  ever  put  it  into  thy  hands, 
as  God  shall  bless  me  with  increase." 

She  speaks  of  her  feelings  toward  him  with 
such  charming  tenderness,  and  beautiful  simplicity 
of  language,  that  I  cannot  forbear  quoting  her  own 
words  :  "  And  now  I  thought  myself  a  perfect 
queen,  and  my  husband  so  glorious  a  crown,  that  I 
more  valued  myself  to  be  called  by  his  name  than 
born  a  princess,  for  I  knew  him  very  wise  and 
very  good,  and  his  soul  doated  on  me;  upon  which 
confidence,  I  will  tell  ^ou  what  happened.  My 
Lady  Rivers,  a  brave  woman,  and  one  that  had 
suffered  many  thousand  pounds'  loss  for  the  king, 
for  whom  I  had  a  great  reverence,  and  she  a  kins- 
woman's kindness  for  me,  in  discourse  tacitly  com- 
mended the  knowledge  of  state  affairs ;  she  men- 
tioned several  women,  who  were  very  happy  in 
a  good  understanding  thereof,  and  said  none  of 
them  was  originally  more  capable  than  I.  She 
said  a  post  would  arrive  from  Paris  from  the  Queen 
that  night,  and  she  should  extremely  like  to  know 
what  news  it  brought ;  adding  if  I  would  ask  my 
husband  privately,  he  would  tell  me  what  he  found 
in  the  packet,  and  I  might  tell  her.  I,  that  was 
young  and  innocent,  and  to  that  day  had  never  in 
my  mouth,  '  What  news?'  now  began  to  think 
there  was  more  in  inquiring  into  public  affairs  than 
I  had  thought  of;  and  that  being  a  fashionable 
thing  it  would  make  me  more  beloved  of  my  hus- 


84  LADY    FANSHAWE. 

band  than  I  already  was,  if  that  had  been  possible. 
When  my  husband  returned  home  from  the  coun- 
cil, after  receiving  my  welcome,  he  went  with  his 
hands  full  of  papers  into  his  study.  I  followed 
him  ;  he  turned  hastily,  and  said,  '  What  wouldst 
thou  have,  my  life?'  I  told  him  I  heard  the  Prince 
had  received  a  packet  from  the  Queen,  and  I 
guessed  he  had  it  in  his  hand,  and  I  desired  to  know 
what  was  in  it.  He  smilingly  replied,  '  My  love, 
I  will  immediately  come  to  thee  ;  pray  thee  go  ;  for 
I  am  very  busy.'  When  he  came  out  of  his  closet, 
I  revived  my  suit  ;  he  kissed  me,  and  talked  of 
other  things.  At  supper'I  would  eat  nothing  ;  he 
as  usual  sat  by  me,  and  drank  often  to  me,  which 
was  his  custom,  and  was  full  of  discourse  to  compa- 
ny that  was  at  table.  Going  to  bed  I  asked  him 
again,  and  said  I  could  not  believe  he  loved  me, 
if  he  refused  to  tell  me  all  he  knew.  He  answer- 
ed nothing,  but  stopped  my  mouth  with  kisses.  I 
cried,  and  he  went  to  sleep.  Next  morning  very 
early,  as  his  custom  was,  he  called  to  rise,  but  be- 
gan to  discourse  with  me  first,  to  which  I  made  no 
reply  ;  he  rose,  came  on  the  other  side  of  the  bed, 
kissed  me,  drew  the  curtains  softly,  and  went  to 
Court.  When  he  came  home  to  dinner,  he  present- 
ly came  to  me  as  was  usual,  and  when  I  had  him 
by  the  hand,  I  said,  '  Thou  dost  not  care  to  see 
me  troubled ;'  to  which  he,  taking  me  in  his  arms, 
answered,  '  My  dearest  soul,  nothing  on  earth  can 
afflict  me  like  that ;  when  you  asked  me  of  my  busi- 
ness, it  was  wholly  out  of  my  power  to  satisfy  thee. 


LADY   FANSHAWE.  85 

My  life,  my  fortune,  shall  be  thine,  and  every 
thought  of  my  heart,  in  which  the  trust  I  am  in 
may  not  be  revealed ;  but  my  honor  is  my  own, 
which  I  cannot  preserve,  if  I  communicate  the 
Prince's  affairs.  I  pray  thee  with  this  answer  rest 
satisfied.' 

"  So  great  was  his  reason  and  goodness,  that  upon 
consideration  it  made  my  folly  appear  to  me  so  vile, 
that  from  that  day  until  the  day  of  his  death,  I 
never  thought  fit  to  ask  him  any  business,  except 
what  he  communicated  freely  to  me  in  order  to  his 
estate  or  family." 

In  the  summer  of  1G45,  the  plague  appeared  in 
Bristol  and  increased  so  rapidly  that  the  Prince  and 
his  suite  were  obliged  to  change  their  residence. 

~  O 

They  removed  to  Barnstable,  one  of  the  finest 
towns  in  England,  then  commanded  by  Sir  Allen 
Apsley,  whom  we  have  mentioned  as  the  father  of 
Airs  Colonel  Hutchinson.  Here  they  had  the  best 
of  provisions  and  excellent  accommodations  in  all 
respects.  Mrs  Fanshawe  mentions  as  a  curiosity, 
a  parrot  more  than  a  hundred  years  old,  which  be- 
longed to  the  house  where  they  lodged. 

The  Prince's  affairs  did  not  allow  him  to  remain 
long  at  Barnstable ;  he  removed  to  Launcetovvn,  in 
Cornwall,  followed  by  his  personal  attendants. 
During  all  the  time  Mrs  Fanshawe  was  in  the 
Court,  she  never  saw  the  prince,  except  at  church ;  it 
was  considered  improper  for  a  virtuous  woman  to 
visit  a  court  where  no  ladies  presided,  and  during 
their  journeys  Mr  Fanshawe  always  either  followed 
or  preceded  his  royal  master. 


86  LADY    FANSHAWE. 

Mrs  Fanshawe  took  lodgings  at  Truro,  about 
twenty  miles  from  Launceton,  where  her  husband 
kept  a  small  trunk  of  jewels  belonging  lo  the 
prince.  This  circumstance  being  discovered,  the 
house  was  attacked  by  robbers,  one  night,  when  he 
was  absent.  Mrs  Fanshawe  and  her  household 
defended  themselves  until  some  of  the  town's  people 
came  to  their  rescue  ;  and  the  next  day  an  armed 
guard  was  sent  for  their  protection. 

Early  iu  the  spring  of  1G46,  the  prince  and 
his  train  embarked  for  the  Scilly  Isles.  Mr 
Fanshawe's  house  and  furniture  were  left  in  the 
care  of  an  officer,  who  cheated  them  of  all  their 
possessions,  under  the  pretence  that  the  goods 
had  been  plundered.  To  make  matters  worse,  the 
sailors  broke  open  their  trunks  and  pillaged  every- 
thing of  value,  not  even  leaving  Mrs  Fanshawe 
her  ribbons  and  gloves.  In  the  midst  of  all  these 
disasters,  she  was  extremely  sea-sick,  and  in  a  situ- 
ation that  unfitted  her  for  such  hardships.  When 
they  were  set  on  shore  in  the  Island'of  Scilly,  she  was 
nearly  dead.  In  this  condition  she  was  obliged  to 
sleep  in  a  little  room  in  a  garret,  to  which  she  ascend- 
ed by  means  of  a  ladder.  The  adjoining  apartment 
was  stored  with  dried  fish.  Being  overcome  with 
fatigue,  she  soon  fell  asleep,  but  awoke  toward 
morning  shivering  with  the  cold  ;  and  when  the 
day  dawned,  she  discovered  that  her  bed  was  swim- 
ming in  salt  water,  occasioned  by  the  overflowing 
of  the  spring-tides.  They  remained  here  several 
weeks,  almost  destitute  of  clothes,  fuel,  or  provi- 


LADY   FANS  II  AWE.  87 

sions.     She   says,   "  Truly   we    begged  our   daily 
bread  of  God,  for  we  thought  every  meal  our  last." 

But  she  seems  to  have  endured  all  this  with  a 
strong  heart.  Loving  her  husband  as  she  did,  she 
carried  her  own  sunshine  with  her,  and  the  world 
could  not  take  it  away. 

From  the  Isles  of  Scilly  the  prince  and  his  fol- 
lowers sailed  for  the  Isle  of  Jersey,  where  they 
arrived  in  safety  and  were  hospitably  received 
among  the  loyal  inhabitants. 

Mr  Fanshawe's  family  took  lodgings  at  the 
house  of  a  widow,  who  sold  stockings  ;  here  their 
second  child  was  born,  and  baptised  by  the  name 
of  Anne. 

The  Queen  Henrietta  Maria,  then  residing  in 
France,  was  exceedingly  anxious  that  her  son 
should  join  her  ;  the  prince  accordingly  departed 
for  Paris,  and  Mr  Fanshawe's  employment  ceased. 
His  brother,  Lord  Fanshawe,  being  very  ill  at  Caen, 
he  went  thither  with  his  wife  ;  leaving  their  babe  at 
Jersey,  under  the  care  of  Lady  Cateret,  wife  of  the 
Governor.  From  Caen,  Mrs  Fanshawe,  at  her 
husband's  request,  went  to  London  for  the  purpose 
of  raising  money  from  his  estates ;  and  making 
some  necessary  arrangements  for  his  safety.  It 
was  the  first  journey  she  had  ever  taken  without 
him,  and  the  first  important  business  with  which 
he  had  entrusted  her.  The  blessing  of  God  rested 
upon  her  energetic  and  affectionate  efforts.  By 
means  of  an  influential  member  of  the  parliament- 
ary party,  who  owed  some  obligations  to  her  family, 


88  LAD  Y   F  ANSH  AWE. 

she  procured  a  pass  for  her  husband  to  return  to  Eng- 
land, and  compounded  for  a  portion  of  her  fortune. 
They  remained  in  England  in  great  seclusion  ; 
for  the  prospects  of  the  king's  party  daily  grew 
worse.  In  July,  1647,  another  son  was  added  to 
their  family.  At  this  time,  the  unfortunate  Charles 
the  First  was  at  Hampton  Court,  where  Mr  Fan- 
shawe  waited  upon  him  and  received  orders  to  pro- 
ceed to  Madrid,  with  letters  and  private  instruc- 
tions. Mrs  Fanshawe  had  several  interviews 
with  the  unhappy  and  misguided  monarch  ;  and 
educated  as  she  had  been  in  principles  of  enthusi- 
astic loyalty,  no  wonder  her  heart  paid  a  fervent 
tribute  to  his  virtues,  and  his  sufferings.  She  says, 
"  When  I  took  leave  of  him,  I  could  not  refrain 
from  weeping.  I  prayed  God  to  preserve  his  maj- 
esty with  long  life  and  happy  years.  He  passed 
his  hand  over  my  cheek,  and  said,  '  child,  if  it 
pleases  God,  it  shall  be  so ;  but  we  must  both  sub- 
mit to  His  will ;  and  you  know  in  what  hands  I 
am.'  Turning  to  my  husband,  he  said,  '  Be  sure, 
Dick,  to  tell  my  son  all  I  have  said,  and  deliver 
those  letters  to  my  wife.  Pray  God  bless  her !  I 
hope  I  shall  do  well.'  Then  folding  him  in  his 
arms,  he  added,  '  Thou  hast  ever  been  an  honest 
man.  I  hope  God  will  bless  thee,  and  make  thee  a 
happy  servant  to  my  son,  whom  I  have  charged  to 
continue  his  love  and  trust  to  you.  1  do  promise 
you  that  if  ever  I  am  restored  to  my  dignity  I  will 
bountifully  reward  you  both  for  your  service  and 
sufferings. ' ' 


LADYFANSHAVVE.  80 

Alas,  the  royal  prisoner  never  had  it  in  his  power 
to  fulfil  these  promises.  If  his  political  sins  were 
great,  he  made  a  fearful  atonement  for  them.  A 

O  ' 

very  few  months  after  this  parting  interview  with  his 
faithful  adherents,  he  was  beheaded  at  Whitehall. 

The  famous  Mrs  Hutchinson  was  at  this  event- 
ful period  suffering  privations  and  perils  nearly 
equal  to  those  encountered  by  Mrs  Fanshawe. 
Colonel  Hutchinson  voted  for  the  death  of  the 
king,  while  Mr  Fanshawe  wrould  have  given  his 
own  life  to  save  him.  The  wife  of  each  was  zeal- 
ous in  the  only  politics  which  belong  to  woman  — 
viz.  loyalty  to  her  husband.  It  would  not  have 
been  well  for  the  liberties  of  England  if  the  cause, 
in  which  Mrs  Fanshawe's  energies  were  displayed, 
had  triumphed  ;  but  her  disinterestedness  and  cour- 
age none  the  less  deserve  our  admiration  and  respect. 

In  October,  1647,  Mr  Fanshawe  went  to  Ports- 
mouth for  the  purpose  of  embarking  for  France. 
While  there  they  narrowly  escaped  being  killed 
by  a  shot  fired  into  the  town  by  the  Dutch  fleet, 
then  at  war  with  England.  The  bullets  passed 
so  near  as  to  whiz  in  their  ears.  Mrs  Fan- 
shawe called  to  her  husband  to  run,  but  without  al- 
tering his  pace,  he  replied,  "  If  we  must  be  killed, 
it  were  as  good  to  be  killed  walking  as  running." 

The  following  spring  they  returned  to  England, 
bringing  with  them  their  little  daughter,  whom  they 
had  left  in  the  Isle  of  Jersey.  Soon  after  their 
arrival,  Mrs  Fanshawe  again  became  a  mother. 
She  speaks  of  welcoming  the  Marchioness  of  Or- 


90  LADY   FANSH  A  WE. 

raond  in  London,  and  of  receiving  from  her  a  ruby 
ring  set  with  diamonds.  A  few  short  months  be- 
fore, she  was  sleeping  in  a  garret  among  dried  fish  : 
a  contrast  by  no  means  remarkable  in  the  adven- 
tures of  the  higher  classes  at  that  period. 

The  Prince  of  Wales  was  at  that  time  on  board 
the  fleet  in  the  Downs  ;  part  of  this  fleet  declared 
for  the  king,  and  part  for  the  parliament.  The 
prince  resolved  to  reduce  the  latter  to  obedience 
by  force  of  arms,  and  sent  for  Mr  Fanshawe 
to  attend  him.  Being  aware  that  the  enterprise 
would  be  one  of  extreme  peril,  he  wrote  a  farewell 
letter  to  his  wife,  entreating  her  to  prepare  herself 
for  the  worst,  and  to  endure  whatever  trials  might 
befal  her,  with  patience  and  fortitude  ;  "  and  this 
with  so  much  love  and  reason,"  says  Mrs  Fan- 
shawe, "  that  my  heart  melts  to  this  day  when  I 
think  of  it."  Fortunately  for  the  anxious  wife,  a  storm 
separated  the  ships,  and  prevented  an  engagement. 

Three  months  after,  Mr  Fanshawe  was  sent  to 
Paris,  on  business  for  the  prince  ;  and  his  family  ac- 
companied him.  Here  they  associated  intimately 
with  the  Queen  Mother,  with  Waller  the  poet,  and 
with  many  distinguished  men  of  their  own  and  other 
nations. 

Such  was  the  embarrassed  state  of  the  royalists 
at  this  period,  that  it  again  became  necessary  for 
Mrs  Fanshawe  to  go  to  England  to  raise  money. 
She  was  accompanied  by  her  sister  Margaret,  her 
little  daughter,  and  Mrs  Waller.  A  violent  storm 
arose  during  the  passage,  and  the  vessel  was  near- 


LADY   FANSHAWE.  91 

ly  wrecked.  The  women  and  children  were  saved 
by  being  carried  through  the  water  on  the  shoulders 
of  the  sailors. 

From  France  Mr  Fanshawe  went  into  Flanders, 
and  afterward  to  Ireland,  to  receive  such  moneys 
as  Prince  Rupert  could  raise  for  the  king. 

In  Ireland,  he  sent  for  his  family  to  join  him  ;  and 
Mrs  Fanshawe  tells  us  that  she  set  out  right  cheer- 
fully toward  her  "  north-star."  She  carried  her 
husband  four  thousand  pounds,  which  she  had  raised 
from  their  estates  in  England.  She  says  :  "  At  that 
time  I  thought  it  a  vast  sum  ;  but,  be  it  more  or  less, 
I  am  sure  it  was  spent  in  seven  years'  time,  in  the 
king's  service,  and  to  this  hour  I  repent  it  not,  I 
thank  God." 

After  a  hazardous  voyage,  Mrs  Fanshawe  join- 
ed her  beloved  companion.  They  took  up  their 
residence  at  Red  Abbey,  near  Cork  :  where  they  re- 
ceived much  kindness  and  attention,  and  lived  very 
happily  for  a  time.  But  during  this  brief  season  of 
tranquillity,  they  heard  of  the  death  of  their  second 
son  Henry;  and  a  few  weeks  after  they  received 
these  melancholy  tidings,  Cromwell's  army  march- 
ed over  Ireland,  and  effectually  stopped  the  intend- 
ed expedition  of  Prince  Rupert.  Mrs  Fanshawe's 
state  of  health  at  this  time  required  indulgence  and 
repose ;  and  she  suffered  excruciating  pain  from  a 
broken  wrist,  which  had  been  unskilfully  set.  She 
was  unable  to  leave  her  chamber,  when  news  was 
brought  that  the  city  of  Cork  had  revolted  from  the 
royal  cause.  Her  husband  was  gone  on  business 


92  LADY    FANSHAWE. 

to  Kinsale,  when  she  was  awakened  at  midnight  by 
the  discharge  of  guns  and  the  shrieks  of  women  and 
children.  This  energetic  woman,  ill  and  suffering 
as  she  was,  immediately  aroused  all  her  family,  and 
wrote  a  cheering  letter  to  her  husband,  assuring 
him  that  she  should  get  away  safely,  blessing 
God's  Providence  that  he  was  out  of  danger ;  this 
letter  was  sent  by  a  faithful  servant,  who  was  let 
down  from  the  walls  of  Red  Abbey  in  the  night 
time.  Having  secured  Mr  Fanshawe's  papers,  with 
about  one  thousand  pounds  in  gold  and  silver,  she 
went  directly  into  the  market-place,  attended  only 
by  two  servants,  and  asked  to  see  Colonel  Jeffries. 
She  was  obliged  to  pass  through  an  armed  and  un- 
ruly multitude,  and  she  was  in  a  state  of  severe  suf- 
fering ;  but  the  exigencies  of  the  moment  demand- 
ed exertion,  and  when  was  the  strength  of  a  loving 
heart  found  unequal  to  its  allotted  task  ?  Colonel 
Jeffries  had  reason  to  be  grateful  to  Mrs  Fanshawe's 
father  for  some  former  services ;  and  he  did  not 
hesitate  to  give  a  safe  passport  for  herself,  her  fam- 
ily, and  her  goods,  out  of  that  dangerous  vicinity. 
Thus  provided,  the  invalid  returned  to  Red  Abbey 
through  thousands  of  naked  swords,  hired  a  cart, 
and  set  off  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  in  No- 
vember, with  her  sister,  her  little  girl,  three  maids, 
and  two  men.  They  had  but  two  horses  among 
them,  which  they  rode  by  turns.  It  was  of  course 
impossible  to  avoid  leaving  considerable  furniture 
exposed  to  the  certain  plunder  of  the  soldiers.  The 
party  travelled  in  perpetual  fear  of  being  ordered 


LADY    FANSHAWE.  93 

back  again  ;  but  they  at  last  arrived  at  Kinsale  in 
safety,  and  were  thankfully  clasped  to  the  heart  of 
the  anxious  husband  and  father.  Cromwell  was 
very  much  vexed  when  he  heard  that  Mr  Fanshawe's 
papers  had  been  carried  away  by  his  wife.  "  It 
was  of  as  much  consequence  to  seize  his  papers  as 
to  obtain  possession  of  the  town  !"  exclaimed  he. 

A  few  days  after  this  escape,  Mr  Fanshawe  re- 
ceived orders  to  proceed  to  the  court  of  Spain  with 
letters  to  Phillip  the  Fourth.  The  Earl  of  Roscom- 
mon,  then  Lord  Chancellor,  fell  down  stairs  and 
shattered  his  skull,  just  as  he  had  ended  a  private 
conference  with  him,  and  was  about  to  light 
him  to  the  door.  By  his  death,  the  broad  seal  of 
Ireland  was  left  in  Mr  Fanshawe's  hands,  and  it 
became  necessary  to  delay  his  departure,  till  he  re- 
ceived orders  how  to  dispose  of  it.  At  this  junc- 
ture they  gladly  availed  themselves  of  the  hospita- 
ble invitation  of  several  of  the  Irish  nobility.  A 
few  nights  were  passed  with  Lady  O'Brien,  daugh- 
ter of  the  Earl  of  Thomond.  Here  Mrs  Fanshawe 
was  frightened  by  a  pale  phantom  of  a  woman  at 
the  window  ;  and  when,  after  much  difficulty  she 
succeeded  in  waking  her  husband,  the  figure  had 
vanished,  but  the  window  remained  open.  In  the 
morning  their  hostess  informed  them  that  they  had 
slept  in  a  haunted  apartment,  and  that  the  phan- 
tom was  an  old  hereditary  spirit  ofthe  castle,  whose 
body  had  been  murdered  by  one  of  the  O'Briens ; 
but  as  it  only  appeared  when  some  of  the  family 
died,  she  had  not  thought  of  the  circumstance  when 


94  LADYFANSHAWE. 

she  placed  her  guests  in  that  room  ;  she  added  that 
her  cousin  had  died  a  little  past  rnidraight  in  the 
chamber  above. 

Mr  Fanshavve's  mode  of  arguing  on  this  occasion 
is  a  good  illustration  of  the  superstition  of  those 
times :  he  said  such  sights  were  very  common  in 
Ireland,  because  the  inhabitants  had  too  little  of  a 
wise  faith,  and  were  too  ignorant  to  defend  them- 
selves against  the  power,  which  the  Evil  One  exer- 
cised so  freely  among  them. 

As  soon  as  possible,  Mr  Fanshawe  transferred 
the  great  seal  to  other  hands,  and  started  for  Gal- 
way,  in  order  to  take  shipping  for  Spain.  The  con- 
quering Cromwell  was  close  upon  their  footsteps, 
and  they  journeyed  in  anxiety  and  fear.  The  cap- 
tain, with  whom  they  sailed,  was  a  drunken,  brutal 
fellow.  Being  met  by  a  Turkish  man-of-war,  he 
resolved  to  fight,  arid  prepared  himself  by  copious 
draughts  of  brandy.  The  situation  of  the  passen- 
gers was  far  from  being  enviable,  for  the  vessel  was 
so  laden  with  goods  that  the  guns  were  nearly  use- 
less. The  women  were  ordered  not  to  appear  on 
deck,  lest  the  Turks  should  suspect  the  vessel  was 
not  a  ship  of  war.  Mr  Fanshawe,  with  the  other 
passengers,  armed  and  went  on  deck.  The  cap- 
tain, fearing  the  women  would  not  remain  quiet, 
locked  the  cabin-door.  Mrs  Fanshawe  was  in  a 
paroxysm  of  distress;  anxiety  for  her  beloved  hus- 
band made  her  absolutely  frantic.  For  a  long  time 
she  knocked  and  called  aloud  to  no  purpose ;  in  the 
confusion  of  the  moment  she  was  entirely  disregard- 


LADY    FANSHAWE.  95 

ed.  At  length,  the  cabin-boy  opened  the  door  and 
inquired  what  was  wanted.  In  a  passion  of  tears, 
Mrs  Fanshawe  begged  him  to  lend  her  his  tarred 
coat  and  blue  thrum  cap  ;  the  boy  consented  ;  and 
throwing  him  half  a  crown,  she  hastily  equipped 
herself,  and  stole  softly  to  the  side  of  her  husband. 
The  two  vessels  were  engaged  in  parley,  and  the 
commander  of  the  Turkish  galley  finding  the  ene- 
my well  manned  and  armed,  deemed  it  prudent  to 
tack  about,  without  giving  any  proofs  of  hostility. 
Mr  Fanshawe  did  not  observe  his  companion  in  the 
tarred  coat  and  thrum  cap,  until  the  danger  was 
past,  and  he  turned  to  carry  the  news  to  the  cabin. 
She  says,  "  Looking  upon  me,  he  blessed  himself, 
and  snatched  me  up  in  his  arms,  saying,  'Good 
God  !  that  love  can  make  this  change!'  and  though 
he  seemingly  chid  me,  he  would  laugh  at  it  as 
often  as  he  remembered  that  voyage." 

They  arrived  safely  at  Malaga,  and  passed 
through  Granada  on  their  way  to  Madrid.  She  thus 
describes  the  celebrated  Moorish  palace,  called  the 
Alhambra,  where  Columbus  received  promises  of 
assistance  from  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  and  where, 
nearly  three  centuries  and  a  half  after,  Washington 
Irving  lived  and  wrote  :  "  The  next  day  we  went 
to  Granada,  having  passed  the  highest  mountains  I 
ever  saw  in  my  life ;  but  under  this  lieth  the  finest 
valley  that  can  be  possibly  described  ;  adorned  with 
high  trees  and  rich  grass,  and  beautified  with  a 
large,  deep,  clear  river  over  the  town  ;  here  stand- 
eth  the  goodly  vast  palace  of  the  king'?,  called  the 


96  LADY    FANSHAWE. 

Alhambra,  whose  buildings  are,  after  the  fashion 
of  the  Moors,  adorned  with  vast  quantities  of  jasper- 
stone  ;  many  courts,  many  fountains,  and  by  reason 
it  is  situated  on  the  side  of  a  hill,  and  not  built  uni- 
form, many  gardens  with  ponds  in  them,  and  many 
baths  made  of  jasper,  and  many  principal  rooms 
roofed  with  the  mosaic  work,  which  exceeds  the 
finest  enamel  I  ever  saw.  Here  I  was  showed  in 
the  midst  of  a  very  large  piece  of  rich  embroidery 
made  by  the  Moors  of  Granada,  in  the  middle  as 
long  as  half  a  yard,  of  the  true  Tyrian  dye,  which 
is  so  glorious  a  color  that  it  cannot  be  expressed : 
it  hath  the  glory  of  scarlet,  the  beauty  of  purple, 
and  is  so  bright,  that  when  the  eye  is  removed  upon 
any  other  object  it  seems  as  white  as  snow.  The 
entry  into  this  great  palace  is  of  stone,  for  a  Por 
ter's-lodge,  but  very  magnificent,  though  the  gate 
below,  which  is  adorned  with  figures  of  forest-work, 
in  which  the  Moors  did  transcend.  High  above 
this  gate  was  a  bunch  of  keys  cut  in  stone  likewise, 
with  this  motto  :  '  Until  that  hand  hold  those  keys, 
the  Christians  shall  never  possess  this  Alhambra.' 
This  was  a  prophecy  they  had,  in  which  they  ani- 
mated themselves,  by  reason  of  the  impossibility 
that  ever  they  should  meet.  But  see,  how  true 
there  is  a  time  for  all  things.  It  happened  that 
when  the  Moors  were  besieged  in  that  place  by 
Don  Fernando  and  his  Queen  Isabella,  the  king 
with  an  arrow  out  of  a  bow,  which  they  then  used 
in  war,  shooting  the  first  arrow  as  their  custom  is, 
cut  that  part  of  the  stone  that  holds  the  keys,  which 


LADY    FANSHAWE.  97 

was  in  fashion  of  a  chain,  and  the  keys  falling,  re- 
mained in  the  hand  underneath.  This  strange  ac- 
cident preceded  but  a  few  days  the  conquest  of  the 
town  of  Granada  and  the  kingdom. 

"  They  have  in  this  place  an  iron  grate,;fixed  into 
the  side  of  the  hill,  that  is  a  rock :  I  laid  my  head 
to  the  key-hole  and  heard  the  clashing  of  arms, 
but  could  not  distinguish  other  shrill  noises  i  heard 
with  that,  but  tradition  says  it  could  never  be  open- 
ed since  the  Moorsfleft  it ;  notwithstanding  several 
persons  had  endeavored  to  wrench  it  open,  but  that 
they  had  perished  in  the  attempt.  The  truth  of 
this  I  can  say  no  more  to  ;  but  that  there  is  such 
a  gate,  and  I  have  seen  it."  •• 

Mr  Fanshawe  did  not  succeed  in  obtaining 
a  supply  of  money  from  the  Spanish  court ;  and 
having  no  other  business  in  that  country  he 
embarked  with  his  family  for  France.  It  seemed 
as  if  every  step  of  theirs  was  to  be  attended  with 
peril.  During  this  voyage  they  were  nearly  wreck- 
ed in  a  violent  storm,  and  the  sailors  were  ignorant 
and  obstinate.  After  many  dangers,  they  Mere 
landed  at  a  little  village  about  two  leagues  from 
Nantz.  They  were  obliged  to  sit  up  all  night,  for 
want  of  beds  ;  but  they  hardly  thought  of  this  in- 
convenience, so  joyful  were  they  at  their  unhoped 
for  escape.  Their  supper  consisted  of  white  wine, 
bread,  butter,  milk,  walnuts,  eggs,  and  bad  cheese. 
They  partook  of  these  simple  provisions  in  glad- 
ness of  heart,  repeating  a  thousand  times  over 
what  they  had  said  to  each  other  when  they  thought 
7 


98  LADY    FANS  II A  WE. 

every  word  might  be  the  last.  Mrs  Fanshawe  says 
she  never  till  that  moment  knew  such  exquisite 
pleasure  in  eating. 

In  the  autumn  of  this  year  Mr  Fanshawe  was 
created  baronet.  From  Nantz  the  travellers  pro- 
ceeded to  Orleans.  Having  hired  a  boat,  they 
were  towed  up  the  river  during  the  day,  and  every 
night  went  on  shore  to  sleep.  In  the  morning  they 
carried  wine,  fruit,  bread,  &c,  on  board  the  boat, 
caught  fish  fresh  from  the  tiver,  and  prepared  their 
breakfast.  Following  the  beautiful  river  of  Loire, 
they  were  surrounded  by  the  most  agreeable  and 
picturesque  scenery  —  cities,  castles,  woods,  mea- 
dows, and  pastures.  Lady  Fanshawe  assures  us, 
she  never  found  any  mode  of  travelling  so  pleasant 
as  this.  They  were  alone  with  nature  ;  and  she  is 
always  lovely. 

They  arrived  at  Paris  about  the  middle  of  No- 
vember, 1650.  They  were  received  with  great 
kindness  and  respect  by  Henrietta  Maria,  the 
Queen  Mother  ;  indeed  it  was  hardly  possible  for 
her  to  evince  too  much  gratitude  toward  friends  who 
had  labored  without  reward,  and  often  without 
hope,  in  the  cause  of  her  husband  and  s-on.  At 
her  request  Sir  Richard  Fanshawe  undertook  to 
convey  letters  from  her  to  Charles  the  Second, 
then  on  his  way  to  Scotland. 

]n  the  meantime,' Lady  Fanshawe  way  again 
obliged  to  go  to  England  to  raise  money. 

The  fugitive  king  received  his  mother's  messen- 
ger v.ith  marked  kiiultio.^,  fiivnrr  him  the  custody 
of  the  Great  Seal  and  Privy  Signet. 


LADV    FANSHAWE.  99 

Lady  Fanshawe  remained  in  London,  with  very 
limited  resources,  and  two  young  children  to  main- 
tain. The  violent  hostility  of  political  parties  in 
Scotland  made  her  tremble  for  the  safety  of  her 
husband  ;  she  scarcely  went  out  of  her  house  for 
seven  months,  and  spent  much  of  her  time  in  pray- 
ing for  the  preservation  of  a  life  so  precious  to  her. 
On  the  24th  of  June,  another  daughter  was  added 
to  her  cares  and  her  blessings.  Frequent  visits 
from  her  affectionate  father,  and  occasional  letters 
from  her  husband,  served  to  keep  up  her  fortitude 
amid  many  discouragements.  As  soon  as  her 
health  permitted,  she  made  a  visit  to  her  brother 
Fanshawe,  at  Ware  Park.  Here  she  received  tid- 
ings of  the  battle  of  Worcester.  For  three  days 
she  was  unable  to  learn  whether  her  husband  were 
dead  or  alive  ;  and  during  this  state  of  intolerable 
suspense,  she  trembled  at  every  sound,  and  neither 
ate  nor  slept.  At  last  she  knew  that  he  was  taken 
prisoner ;  and  she  immediately  hastened  to  Lon- 
don, to  meet  him  wheresoever  he  might  be  carried. 
On  her  arrival,  she  received  a  letter  from  him,  in- 
forming her  that  he  would  be  allowed  to  dine  with 
her  in  a  room  at  Charing  Cross.  The  room  and 
the  dinner  were  prepared,  according  to  appoint- 
ment, and  surrounded  by  her  father  and  friends,  the 
anxious  wife  waited  impatiently  for  his  arrival. 
They  met  i:i  poverty  and  in  sorrow  :  and  there 
was  an  oppressive  consciousness  that  each  hour 
might  be  the  last  of  the  prisoner's  life.  lie  assum- 
ed a  cheerful  tone,  saying,  "  Let  us  lose  no  time  ; 


100  LADY    PANSHAWE. 

for  I  know  not  how  little  I  may  have  to  spare. 
This  is  the  chance  of  war  ;  so  let  us  sit  down  and 
be  merry  while  we  may."  But  when  he  saw  his 
wife  in  tears,  his  voice  faltered,  as  he  took  her 
hand  and  said,  "  Cease  weeping  ;  no  other  thing 
upon  earth  can  move  me ;  remember  we  are  all  at 
God's  disposal." 

During  his  imprisonment,  she  never  failed  to  go 
secretly  with  a  dark  lantern,  at  four  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  to  his  window.  She  minded  neither 
darkness  nor  storms,  and  often  stood  talking  with 
him  with  her  garments  drenched  in  rain.  Crom- 
well had  a  great  respect  for  Sir  Richard  Fanshawe, 
and  would  have  bought  him  into  his  service  upon 
almost  any  terms. 

When  Lady  Fanshawe  went  to  him  to  beg  her 
husband's  release  upon  the  ground  of  his  declin- 
ing health,  he  bade  her  bring  a  certificate  from  a 
physician  that  he  was  really  ill ;  it  chanced  that 
her  family  physician  was  likewise  employed  by 
Cromwell,  and  from  him  she  obtained  a  statement 
very  favorable  to  the  prisoner.  The  subject  was 
debated  in  the  Council  Chamber,  and  several  gen- 
tlemen, particularly  Sir  Harry  Vane,  considered  it 
dangerous  to  allow  liberty  to  so  confirmed  and  effi- 
cient a  royalist;  but  Cromwell  was  not  disposed 
to  be  severe,  and  Sir  Richard  finally  obtained  his 
discharge  upon  four  thousand  pounds'  bail. 

The  conduct  of  his  faithful  wife  during  the 
whole  of  this  anxious  crisis,  was  exceedingly  beau- 
tiful and  affecting.  A  few  days  after  he  obtained 


LADY  PANSHAWE.  101 

his  freedom,  he  became  so  ill,  that  for  many  days 
and  nights,  he  only  slept  as  he  leaned  on  her  shoul- 
der while  she  walked  softly  about  the  room. 

In  March,  1653,  they  removed  to  Tankersly 
Park,  in  Yorkshire,  which  they  hired  of  the  Earl  of 
Stratford.  Here  Mr  Fanshawe  devoted  himself  to 
literary  pursuits,  and  translated  the  Lusiad  of  Ca- 
inoc'ns.  The  death  of  their  oldest  and  favorite 
daughter,  a  child  of  great  beauty  and  wit,  the  com- 
panion of  all  their  vicissitudes,  made  this  pleasant 
abode  seem  melancholy  to  them. 

They  went  into  Huntingdonshire,  and  remained 
six  months  with  his  sister,  Lady  Bedell. 

Sir  Richard  Fanshawe  having  visited  London, 
was  forbidden  to  go  more  than  five  miles  from  the 
city ;  his  family  accordingly  joined  him  in  the 
metropolis. 

For  a  fe\v  years,  their  lives  past  on,  according  to 
the  ordinary  routine  of  human  affairs,  affording  few 
incidents  of  biography  ;  their  family  increased 
rapidly  :  and  at  one  time  they  were  both  brought 
nearly  to  the  grave  by  a  malignant  epidemic. 

In  l<)->8,  they  received  the  tidings  of  Cromwell's 
death  ;  and  Sir  Richard  Fanshawe,  taking  advan- 
tage of  this  event,  left  England  under  the  pretence 
of  becoming  tutor  to  the  Earl  of  Pembroke's  son, 
then  on  his  travels. 

When  he  arrived  at  Paris,  he  sent  for  his  wife 
and  children  ;  but  when  she  applied  for  a  passport, 
she  was  told  thnt  "  her  husband  had  escaped  by 
means  of  a  trick  ;  and  as  for  his  family,  they  should 
riot  stir  out  of  London  upon  any  conditions." 


102  LADY    FANSHAWE. 

In  this  dilemma,  Lady  Fansliawe  taxed  her  ingenu- 
ity to  find  some  means  of  eluding  these  peremptory 
commands.  She  was  quite  ready  to  depart,  and  if 
she  could  but  obtain  a  passport,  she  might  be  in 
France  before  they  would  miss  her. 

She  changed  her  dress,  and  assuming  great, 
plainness  of  speech  and  manner,  she  went  to 
the  office  where  the  passes  were  given,  and  very 
demurely  told  her  story.  She  said  her  name  was 
Ann  Harrison  ;  that  her  husband  was  a  young 
merchant  and  had  sent  for  her  to  come  to  him  in 
Paris.  The  man  told  her  a  passport  would  cost 
her  a  crown.  She  said  that  was  a  great  sum  for 
such  a  poor  body,  and  asked  if  he  were  not  willing 
to  include  three  children,  a  man  servant,  and  a 
maid.  The  officer  complied,  saying  as  he  did  so, 
"  a  malignant  would  give  me  five  pounds  for  such  a 
pass." 

Thanking  him  kindly,  she  hastendod  to  her 
lodgings,  and  changed  the  letters  of  her  name  so 
ingeniously,  that  Fanshawe  appeared  fairly  written 
where  Harrison  had  been.  This  done,  she  went 
with  all  possible  despatch  to  Dover.  There,  the 
officers  demanded  her  passport,  after  reading  it, 
they  said  "Madam,  you  may  go  when  you  please;" 
but  one  of  them  observed  to  the  other,  "  I  little 
thought  they  would  have  given  a  pass  to  the  family 
of  so  great  a  malignant,  in  these  troublesome 
times." 

She  arrived  safely  at  Calais,  where  she  heard 
that  messt-ngers  had  been  despatched  from  Lon- 
don to  brinsj  her  back.  She  met  her  husband  at 


LADY    FAXSHAVVE.  103 

Paris,  ami  followed  him  to  Newport,  Bruges, 
Ghent,  and  Brussels  ;  at  which  last  place,  the  royal 
family  of  England  were  residing. 

After  the  restoration,  the  King  promised  to  re- 
ward Sir  Richard  Fanshawe's  fidelity  by  appointing 
him  Secretary  of  State ;  but  by  the  treachery  of 
Lord  Clarendon  the  royal  word  was  not  fulfilled. 

Tiie  morning  after  Charles's  arrival  at  AVhite- 
hall,  Lady  Fatishawe  with  the  other  ladies  of  her 
family,  \vaited  upon  him  to  offer  their  congratula- 
tions ;  on  which  occasion  he  assured  her  of  his 
favor,  conferred  knighthood  on  her  husband,  and 
gave  him  his  miniature  set  in  diamonds. 

In  the  parliament  summoned  immediately  after 
the  Restoration,  Sir  Richard  Fanshawe  was  return- 
ed for  the  University  of  Cambridge,  and  was  the 
very  first  member  chosen  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons. 

Lord  Clarendon  being  jealous  of  the  estimation 
in  which  Sir  Richard  was  held  by  all  parties  was 
anxious  to  remove  him  from  the  king's  person.  By 
his  means  he  was  sent  to  Portugal  to  m  gotiate  the 
marriage  with  the  Princess  Catherine.  Having 
finished  this  negotiation,  he  returned  to  England, 
and  was  sent  to  Portsmouth  to  receive  the  new 
queen,  whose  marriage  they  afterward  witnessed. 

Early  in  I(i62,  he  was  nominated  Privy  Counsel- 
lor oi'  Ireland  ;  and  in  the  August  following  he  was 
appointed  Ambassador  to  Portugal.  On  this  occa- 

*  TliU  miniature  was  taken  in  childhood,  an,l  \v.i;  v;.I;i;tlilc 
bcc^iis^  it  was  the  only  likeness  of  Charles  II,  t;i'-vn  at  that 
period. 


104  LADY    FANS  HA  WE. 

sion,  he  was  presented  with  a  full  length  portrait  of 
Charles  the  Second  in  his  garter  robes  ;  a  crimson 
velvet  cloth  of  state,  fringed  and  laced  with  gold  : 
chair,  footstools,  and  cushions  of  the  same  ;  a  Per- 
sian carpet  to  lay  under  them  ;  a  suit  of  fine  tapes- 
try for  the  room  ;  two  velvet  altar  cloths  for  the 
chapel,  fringed  with  gold  ;  surplices,  altar  cloths 
and  napkins  of  fine  linen  ;  a  Bible  with  Ogleby's 
prints  ;  two  Prayer  Books  ;  eight  hundred  ounces 
of  gilt  plate,  and  four  thousand  ounces  of  silver 
plate ;  but  a  velvet  bed,  which  Lady  Fanshawe 
says  belonged  to  the  outfit  of  an  ambassador,  they 
did  not  receive. 

All  the  pageantry  of  their  grand  entry  into  Lis- 
bon is  minutely  described  ;  and  much  is  said  of 
the  respect  and  attention  bestowed  upon  Lady  Fan- 
shawe and  her  daughters  by  the  royal  family  of 
Portugal. 

After  a  year's  residence  in  Lisbon,  Sir  Richard 
was  recalled.  At  parting,  the  King  of  Portugal 
presented  him  with  gold  plate  to  the  value  of  twelve 
thousand  crowns;  and  Lady  Fanshawe  received 
several  magnificent  gifts  from  other  members  of 
the  royal  family,  and  the  nobility. 

An  anecdote  told  of  a  nunnery  where  Lady 
Fanshawe  visited,  is  an  awful  memento  of  the  op- 
pression and  bigotry  of  those  times. 

A  Jewish  mother  was  condemned  and  executed 
for  her  religion.  Her  newly  born  infant  was  taken 
from  her,  and  brought  up  in  the  Esperanza.  The 
child  had  no  opportunity  of  learning  what  a  Jew 
was ;  but  the  Catholics  affirmed  that  she  daily 


LADi'    FANSHAWE.  105 

whipped  the  crucifixes,  and  scratched  them,  and 
run  pins  into  them  ;  and  when  she  was  discovered 
in  the  act,  she  said  she  never  would  worship  their 
God.  At  fourteen  years  of  age,  the  poor  girl  was 
burnt  to  death,  upon  the  strength  of  these  idle 
charges. 

In  January,  1664,  Sir  Richard  Fanshawe  was 
appointed  Ambassador  to  Spain ;  and  again  we 
have  a  minute  description  of  the  solemn  pomp  with 
which  they  were  received  on  their  arrival  at  a  for- 
eign court.  The  following  account  of  a  visit  re- 
ceived by  Lady  Fanshawe  is  a  sublime  specimen  of 
Spanish  formality  :  "  As  soon  as  the  Duke  was  seat- 
ed and  covered,  he  said,  '  Madam,  I  am  Don  Juan 
de  la  Cueva,  Duke  of  Albuquerque,  Viceroy  of 
Milan,  of  his  Majesty's  Privy  Council,  General  of 
the  Galleys,  twice  Grandee,  the  First  Gentleman 
of  his  Majesty's  Bed  Chamber,  and  a  near  kinsman 
to  his  Catholic  Majesty,  whom  God  long  preserve' 
—  then  rising  up  and  making  alow  reverence  with 
his  hat  off,  he  added,  '  These,  with  my  family  and 
life,  I  lay  at  your  Excellency's  feet.'  " 

The  Duchess  of  Albuquerque  afterward  made 
a  visit  in  slate;  her  intention  being  formally  an- 
nounced the  day  preceding.  Beside  other  rich 
jewels,  she  wore  about  two  thousand  pearls,  of 
great  size  and  purity.  When  Lady  Fanshawe  re- 
turned this  visit,  she  was  received  by  soldiers,  who 
stood  to  their  arms,  the.  oflicers  lowering  their 
standards  to  the  ground,  as  they  were  wont  to  do  in 
the  presence  of  royalty.  Indeed,  the  whole  oV 


10G  LADY     FA.NSHAVVE. 

Sir  Richard's  residence  in  Spain  was  marked  by 
almost  regal  splendor.  His  house  was  stored  with 
abundance  of  rich  gilt  and  silver  plate  ;  all  the  floors 
were  covered  with  Persian  carpets;  and  the  mean- 
est apartment,  devoted  to  the  service  of  the  cham- 
bermaid, was  hung  with  damask. 

They  were  escorted  into  Seville  by  a  very  large 
procession,  and  were  lodged  in  the  King's  palace, 
where  they  slept  on  a  silver  bedstead,  with  curtains 
and  counterpane  of  crimson  damask  embroidered 
with  golden  flowers.  The  tables  and  mirrors  were 
adorned  with  precious  stories,  the  chairs  were  of 
silver,  and  a  large  silver  vase  was  daily  rilled  with 
the  rarest  and  most  beautiful  flowers. 

Similar  magnificence  characterised  their  recep- 
tion in  several  Spanish  cities  ;  and  the  gifts  be- 
stowed upon  them  by  the  nobility,  and  by  the  Eng- 
lish residents,  were  right  princely.  But  where 
presents  of  this  kind  are  accepted  by  ambassadors, 
it  involves  the  necessity  of  somewhat  lavish  expense 
in  return:  and  as  Sir  Richard  Fanshawe  was  of  a 
very  noble  nature,  it  is  not  wonderful  that  he  failed 
to'anviss  a  fortune  in  Spain. 

Perhaps  some  rrny  he  curious  to  know  the  Court 
dress  of  an  Ambassador -from  Charles  the  Second. 
When  Sir  Richard  Fanshawe  had  his  audience 
with  the  Spanish  monarch,  he  wore  a  lich  suit  of 
dark  brocade,  with  gold  and  silver  hce  of  curious 
workmanship  ;  Ins  suit  w;is  (rimmed  with  scarlet 
taffety  ribbon  ;  white  silk  stockings  upon  long  scar- 
let silk  ones:  black  shoes  with  scarlet  shoe  strings 


LADY    FANSHAWE.  107 

and  garters  ;  his  linen  trimmed  with  costly  Flan- 
ders lace;  his  black  beaver  buttoned  on  the  left 
side  with  a  jewel  worth  twelve  hundred  pounds  ;  a 
curiously  wrought  gold  chain,  on  which  was  sus- 
pended the  miniature  of  Charles  glittering  with 
diamonds  ;  his  gloves  trimmed  with  scarlet  ribbons. 
The  carriage  was  richly  gilt  on  the  outside,  adorn- 
ed with  brass  work,  lined  with  crimson  velvet,  with 
broad  gold  lace  ;  and  tassels  of  gold  and  silver  loop- 
ed up  the  damask  curtains;  massive  fringe  of  gold 
and  silver  hung  from  the  boot  almost  to  the  ground  ; 
the  harness  for  four  horses  of  embossed  brass,  the 
reins  and  tassels  of  crimson  silk  embroidered  with 
gold. 

The  other  carriages  and  dresses  were  in  a  style 
of  proportionate  magnificence.  If  Lady  Fanshawe 
is  deemed  frivolous  for  informing  us  of  these  par- 
ticulars, it  must  be  remembered  she  did  not  write 
for  the  public,  but  for  her  children,  who  would 
naturally  be  interested  in  everything  relating  to  their 
parents. 

She  says  that  neither  she  nor  her  husband  liked 
this  osteniatious  mode  of  life,  r.nd  that  they  often 
sighed  for  a  country  residence  in  England.  We 
can  easily  believe  this  assertion  from  a  woman,  who 
placed  so  much  of  her  happiness  in  domestic  affec- 
tion. 

Lady  Fanshawe  had  good  features,  and  a  clear, 
bright,  intelligent  expression,  which  announced  the 
energy  and  vivacity  of  her  character.  The  endur- 
ing attachment  of  her  husband  is  a  proof  that  she 


108  LADY    FANSHAWE. 

was  agreeable  in  her  manners,  and  amiable  in  her 
disposition  ;  this  likewise  was  implied  by  the  Span- 
ish Queen,  who  sent  her  a  jewel  of  diamonds,  worth 
about  two  thousand  pounds  sterling,  with  the  assur- 
ance that  she  gave  it  not  merely  to  the  wife  of  a 
great  king's  ambassador,  but  to  a  lady  for  whom 
she  entertained  much  respect,  and  in  whose  con- 
versation she  delighted. 

The  engraved  portrait  of  Lady  Fanshawe  gives 
the  idea  that  she  was  ambitious  ;  and  the  same  in- 
ference may  be  drawn  from  the  evident  pride  and 
pleasure  with  which  she  recounts  her  husband's 
honors ;  but  after  all,  "  ambition  is  the  infirmity  of 
noble  minds." 

The  various  scenes  of  her  eventful  life  are  record- 
ed with  remarkable  simplicity,  and  not  without  oc- 
casional touches  of  poetic  beauty. 

The  most  brilliant  portion  of  her  existence  was 
passed  in  Spain  ;  and  she  speaks  of  that  romantic 
country  in  terms  of  enthusiastic  praise.  She  says 
their  fruits  are  the  most  delicious,  their  bread  the 
sweetest,  the  water  of  their  fountains  the  coolest  and 
purest,  their  perfumes  the  most  exquisite,  and  their 
wines  richer  than  any  in  the  Christian  world  ;  the 
higher  classes  magnificent  in  their  habits,  and  all 
classes  generous  and  hospitable.  Among  the  seven 
courts  in  which  it  had  been  Lady  Fansh awe's  lot 
to  reside,  she  declares  that  of  Madrid  to  be  the  best 
ordered,  excepting  the  English.  She  tells  us  "  the 
Spaniards  are  the  most  jolly  travellers  in  the  world, 
dealing  out  provisions  of  all  sorts  to  everybody  they 


L.ADY    FANSIIAWE.  109 

meet  at  their  meals.  They  are  civil  to  all  as  their 
qualities  require,  with  the  highest  respect.  I  have 
seen  a  grandee  and  a  duke  stop  their  horse  when 
an  ordinary  woman  passeth  over  a  kennel,  because 
he  would  not  spoil  her  clothes;  and  put  off  his  hat 
to  the  meanest  woman  that  makes  a  reverence, 
though  it  be  their  footman's  wife." 

Lady  Fanshawe  thus  describes  the  royal  ceme- 
tery in  the  church  of  the  Escurial  :  "  There  I  saw 
the  most  glorious  place  for  the  covering  of  the  bones 
of  the  kings  of  Spain,  that  is  possible  to  imagine. 
The  descent  is  about  thirty  steps,  all  of  polished 
marble,  arched  and  lined  on  all  sides  with  polished 
jasper.  On  the  left  hand  is  a  large  vault  in  which 
the  bodies  of  their  kings,  and  of  the  queens  that 
have  been  mothers  of  kings,  lie  in  silver  coffins  for 
one  year.  On  the  opposite  side  lie  the  Queens, 
who  had  no  sons  at  their  death,  and  all  the  children 
that  did  not  inherit.  At  the  bottom  of  the  stairs  is 
the  Pantheon,  eight  feet  square,  and  I  should  guess 
about  sixty  feet  over.  The  whole  lining  is  of  jas- 
per, curiously  carved  in  figures,  flowers,  and  im- 
agery. A  silver  branch  for  forty  lights,  which  is 
vastly  rich,  hangs  from  the  top  by  a  silver  chain, 
within  three  yards  of  the  bottom,  and  is  made 
with  great  art ;  as  is  also  a  curious  knot  of  jasper 
on  the  floor,  in  the  reflection  of  which  the  bnmch 
and  its  lights  are  perfectly  seen.  The  bodies  lie  in 
jasper -stones,  every  coflin  supported  by  four  lions 
of  jasper.  There  are  seven  arches  supported  by 
jasper  pillars,  with  roofs  curiously  wrought.  The 


110  LADY    FANSHAWE. 

one  opposite  the  entrance  contains  a  very  curious 
altar  and  crucifix  of  jasper." 

In  December,  16(55,  Sir  Richard  Fanshawe  sign- 
ed a  treaty  with  the  Spanish  minister,  but  as  the 
king  refused  to  ratify  it,  he  was  recalled.  The 
May  following  he  escorted  his  successor,  the  Earl 
of  Sandwich,  into  Madrid,  and  welcomed  him  to 
Court.  The  necessary  preparations  were  soon  made 
for  their  return  to  England  :  but  on  June  2(>th,  Sir 
Richard  Fanshawe  died  of  a  malignant  fever,  after 
a  short  illness. 

lie  felt  his  recall  deeply,  because  he  thought  it 
was  occasioned  by  the  misrepresentations  of  his 
enemies,  and  some  supposed  it  hastened  his  death  ; 
but  Lady  Fanshawe  says  nothing  to  favor  such  a 
supposition. 

It  is  indeed  true  that  Sir  Richard,  in  common 
with  other  adherents  of  the  house  of  Stuart,  met 
with  an  ungrateful  return  for  all  his  services.  Dur- 
ing the  latter  part  of  his  residence  in  Spain,  he  was 
obliged  to  pawn  his  plate,  for  subsistence,  being  un- 
able to  obtain  his  just  allowance  from  government. 

The  desolate  situation  of  the  almost  heart-broken 
widow  excited  much  commiseration.  The  Queen 
of  Spain  offered  her  a  pension  of  thirty  thousand 
ducats  per  annum,  and  a  handsome  provision  for 
her  children,  if  they  would  remniu  with  her,  and 
embrace  the  Catholic  religion,  I/ulv  Fanshawe 
replied  that  she  should  rrlnin  a  most.  QTnteful  sense 
of  her  kindness  to  the  htcst  hour  of  her  life  ;  but 
begged  her  Majesty  to  believe  th:it  it  wns  not  possi- 
ble for  her  to  quit  the  faith  in  which  she  had  been 


LADY    FANSHAWE.  Ill 

born  and  bred.  Her  own  language  will  best  por- 
tray her  feelings  under  this  severe  affliction  :  "  O, 
all  powerful  and  good  God,  look  down  from  heaven 
upon  the  most  distressed  wretch  on  earth.  My  glo- 
ry and  my  guide,  all  my  comfort  in  this  life,  is  taken 
from  me.  See  me  staggering  in  my  path,  because 
I  expected  a  temporal  blessing  as  a  reward  for  the 
great  innocence  and  integrity  of  his  whole  life. 
Have  pity  on  me,  O  Lord,  and  speak  peace  to  my 
disquieted  soul,  now  sinking  underthis  great  weight, 
which  without  thy  support  cnnnot  sustain  itself. 
See  me,  with  five  children,  a  distressed  family,  the 
temptation  of  the  change  of  my  religion,  out  of  my 
country,  away  from  my  friends,  without  counsel, 
and  without  means  to  return  with  my  sad  family  to 
England.  Do  with  me,  and  for  me,  what  thou 
pleasest ;  for  I  do  wholly  rely  on  thy  promises  to 
the  widow  and  the  fatherless  ;  humbly  beseeching 
thee  that,  when  this  mortal  life  is  ended,  I  may  be 
joined  with  the  soul  of  my  dear  husband." 

The  body  of  Sir  Richard  Fanshawc  was  em- 
balmed ;  and  for  several  months  his  widow  had  it 
daily  in  her  sight.  It  was  her  wish  to  accompany 
the  corpse  to  England  ;  but  for  a  long  time  they 
had  received  no  money  from  government ;  and  now 
in  the  midst  of  her  affliction,  surrounded  by  her  lit- 
tle children,  with  a  young  babe  in  her  arms,  no  as- 
sistance was  offered  by  her  ungrateful  kin"1:  and 

J  O  o   • 

the    ministers  sent  only  complimentary  letters  bid- 
ding "  God  help  her." 

At  this  anxious  crisis,  the  Spanish  Queen  Regent, 


112  LADY    FANS  HA  WE. 

Anna  of  Austria,  widow  of  Phillip  the  Fourth,  gave 
her  two  thousand  pistoles,  saying,  with  great  del- 
icacy, that  the  sum  had  been  appropriated  to  pur- 
chasing a  farewell  present  for  her  husband,  had  he 
lived  to  depart  from  Spain. 

After  distributing  articles  of  value  among  her 
numerous  friends,  Lady  Fanshawe  quitted  Madrid, 
on  the  8th  of  July,  1066.  She  pathetically  observes, 
"  Truly  may  I  say  never  any  ambassador's  family 
came  into  Spain  more  gloriously,  or  went  out  so 
sad." 

The  mournful  train  arrived  in  England  on  the 
30th  of  October.  The  body  was  buried,  with  a 
good  deal  of  pomp,  in  the  vault  of  St  Mary's  Chapel, 
in  Ware  Church.  His  widow  erected  a  handsome 
monument  to  his  memory. 

Sir  Richard  Fanshawe  was  fiftynine  years  old 
when  he  died,  and  had  lived  in  happy  union  with 
his  excellent  wife  during  twenty  two  years. 

Lady  Fanshawe  received  many  professions  of 
kindness  and  sympathy  from  the  king,  the  queen, 
and  some  of  the  ministers  :  but  she  had  great  trou- 
ble in  procuring  the  money  due  to  her  husband. 
The  heartless  and  profligate  Charles  found  his  plea- 
sures too  expensive  to  leave  anything  in  his  treasu- 
ry for  the  tried  friends,  who  had  been  faithful  to  him 
when  fidelity  endangered  life  ;  who  for  thirty  years 
had  been  devoted  to  his  service,  braving  all  man- 
ner of  perils  by  land  and  sea  ;  and  who  had  ex- 
pended a  fortune  in  his  cause. 

The  diflicultv  of  obtaining  the  arrears  due  to  Sir 


LADY    FANSHAVVE.  113 

Richard  Fanshawe  were  considerably  increased  by 
the  death  of  the  Lord  Treasurer,  the  Earl  of  South- 
ampton, father  of  Lady  Russell.  The  widow  says, 
"  In  consequence  of  losing  that  good  man  and 
friend,  my  money,  which  was  five  thousand  six  hun- 
dred pounds,  was  not  paid  until  1669  ;"  by  this  de- 
lay she  sustained  a  loss  of  two  thousand  pounds. 
She  speaks  with  great  bitterness  of  Lord  Shaftes- 
bury,  at  whose  instigation  she  was  obliged  to  pay 
two  thousand  pounds  for  the  plate  furnished  to  the 
embassy. 

Her  first  object  was  to  reduce  her  establishment 
according  to  her  altered  fortunes.  She  says,  "As 
it  is  hard  for  the  rider  to  quit  his  horse  in  full  ca- 
reer, so  did  I  find  it  very  difficult  to  settle  myself  sud- 
denly within  the  narrow  compass  my  fortune  re- 
quired." But  Lady  Fanshawe  had  too  much  rec- 
titude of  principle  to  live  beyond  her  income,  how- 
ever scanty.  Even  in  the  days  of  their  utmost  dis- 
tress, they  had  never  incurred  debts ;  a  circum- 
stance that  was  not  a  little  remarkable  when  the 
poverty  of  a  large  portion  of  the  royalists  was  only 
exceeded  by  their  dissipation  and  dishonest  extrava- 
gance. 

Had  it  not  have  been  for  her  children,  the  dis- 
consolate widow  would  have  withdrawn  herself  en- 
tirely fiom  the  world  ;  she  lived  in  as  much  seclu- 
sion as  their  education  and  interests  permitted. 

Her  father  lost  one  hundred  and  thirty  thousand 
pounds  in  the  royal  cause  ;  but  when  he  died  in 
1670,  he  was  enabled  to  leave  her  twenty  thousand 
8 


114  LADY   FANSHAWE. 

pounds,  beside  the  estates,  which  were  inherited 
by  her  brother. 

Lady  Fanshawe  was  the  mother  of  six  sons  and 
eight  daughters  ;  five  of  whom  survived  her. 

She  wrote  her  Memoir  "  for  her  dear  and  only 
son,"  in  1676:  and  died,  January,  16SO,  in  her 
fiftyfifth  year. 


MRS    FLAXMAN, 

WIFE   OF   JOHN    FLAXMAN. 

THE  name  of  John  Flaxman  is  among  the  most 
distinguished  of  British  Sculptors ;  and  after  read- 
ing an  account  of  his  life  by  his  eloquent  biogra- 
pher, Allan  Cunningham,  one  cannot  refrain  from 
believing  that  the  world  never  contained  a  better 
man. 

His  mind  was  earnest,  enthusiastic,  and  highly 
poetic  ;  his  temper  serene ;  his  affections  warm  and 
benevolent ;  and  his  whole  character  shone  with 
the  angelic  light  of  pure  disinterestedness,  and 
cheerful  piety.  Religion'was  not  with  him  a  thing 
set  apart  for  occasional  use,  regarded  only  for  the 
sake  of  the  world's  opinion,  or  because  the  world 
had  lost  its  attractions  —  it  was  the  vivifying  prin- 
ciple of  his  existence  —  it  guided  every  feeling, 
was  blended  with  every  thought,  and  passed  into 
every  action.  In  this  dishonest,  hypocritical 
world,  a  simple-minded,  sincere  man  must  necessa- 
rily be  considered  very  peculiar  ;  and  John  Flax- 
man teas  so  regarded.  He  was  peculiar  in  his  re- 
ligious opinions  ;  being  a  receiver  of  the  doctrines 


116  MKS    FLAXMAN. 

of  the  New  Jerusalem,  or,  in  other  words,  a  believ- 
er in  the  writings  of  Swedenborg.  Much  of  the 
simplicity  and  spirituality  of  his  character  is  re- 
flected in  his  marbles  and  his  drawings ;  they  are 
remarkable  for  an  expression  of  serene  loveliness 
and  quiet  devotion.  His  favorite  works  were  those 
by  which  he  embodied  passages  of  Scripture. 

In  early  life,  Flaxman  was  poor,  and  his  health 
feeble.  He  used  to  support  himself  by  making 
drawing  and  designs  for  the  celebrated  porcelain 
manufactory  of  the  Wedgwoods.  When  he  be- 
came eminent  he  loved  to  allude  to  these  humble 
labors  of  his  early  life  ;  and  since  his  death  the 
models  have  been  eagerly  sought  after.  But  though 
Flaxman  was  largely  endowed  with  genius,  he 
found  no  royal  road  to  fame.  He  met  with  morti- 
fications and  disappointments,  and  gained  final 
success  only  by  the  most  laborious  industry.  "  From 
his  twentieth  to  his  twentyseventh  year,  he  lived, 
as  all  young  artists  must  do,  who  have  no  other 
fortune  than  clear  heads  and  clever  hands.  His 
labors  for  the  Wedgwoods  maintained  him  ;  but  he 
was  no  lover  of  jovial  circles,  and  was  abstemious 
in  all  things  save  a  hungering  and  thirsting  for 
knowledge." 

*'  In  the  year  1782,  when  twentyseven  years  old, 
he  quitted  the  paternal  roof,  hired  a  small  house 
and  studio  in  Wardour  Street,  collected  a  stock  of 
choice  models,  set  his  sketches  in  good  order,  and 
took  unto  himself  a  wife,  Ann  Denman,  one  whom 
he  had  long  loved,  and  who  well  deserved  his  affec- 


MRS    FLAX  MAN.  117 

tion.  She  was  amiable  and  accomplished,  had  a 
taste  for  art  and  literature,  was  skilful  in  French 
and  Italian,  and,  like  her  husband,  had  acquired 
some  knowledge  of  the  Greek.  But  what  was 
better  than  all,  she  was  an  enthusiastic  admirer  of 
his  genius  —  she  cheered  and  encouraged  him  in 
his  moments  of  despondency  —  regulated  modestly 
and  prudently  his  domestic  economy  —  arranged 
his  drawings  —  managed  now  and  then  his  corres- 
pondence, and  acted  in  all  particulars  so  that  it 
seemed  as  if  the  church,  in  performing  a  marriage, 
had  accomplished  a  miracle,  and  blended  them 
really  into  one  flesh  and  one  blood.  That  tranquil- 
lity of  mind,  so  essential  to  those  who  live  by 
thought,  was  of  his  household  ;  and  the  sculptor, 
happy  in  the  company  of  one  who  had  taste  and 
enthusiasm,  soon  renewed  with  double  zeal  the 
studies  which  courtship  and  matrimony  had  for  a 
time  interrupted.  lie  had  never  doubted  that  in 
the  company  of  her  whom  he  loved  he  should  be 
able  to  work  with  an  intenser  spirit ;  but  of  another 
opinion  was  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds.  '  So,  Flax- 
man,'  said  the  President  one  day,  as  he  chanced 
to  meet  him,  '  I  am  told  you  are  married  ;  if  so, 
sir,  I  tell  you  you  are  ruined  for  an  artist.'  '  Flax- 
man  went  home,  sat  down  beside  his  wife,  took  her 
hand,  and  said  with  a  smile,  'I  am  ruined  for  an 
artist.'  'John,'  said  she,  '  how  has  this  happen- 
ed, and  who  has  done  it?'  'It  happened,'  said 
he,  'in  the  church,  and  Ann  Denman  has  done 
it ;  I  met  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  just  now,  and  he 
said  marriage  had  ruined  me  in  my  profession.' 


118  MRS   FLAXMAN. 

"  For  a  moment  a  cloud  hung  on  Flaxman's  brow  ; 
but  this  worthy  couple  understood  each  other  too 
well  to  have  their  happiness  seriously  marred  by 
the  unguarded  and  peevish  remark  of  a  wealthy  old 
bachelor.  They  were  proud,  determined  people, 
who  asked  no  one's  advice,  who  shared  their  do- 
mestic secrets  with  none  of  their  neighbors,  and 
lived  as  if  they  were  unconscious  that  they  were  in 
the  midst  of  a  luxurious  city.  '  Ann,'  -  said  the 
sculptor,  '  I  have  long  thought  that  I  could  rise  to 
distinction  in  art  without  studying  in  Italy,  but 
these  words  of  Reynolds  have  determined  me.  I 
shall  go  to  Rome  as  soon  as  my  affairs  are  fit  to  be 
left ;  and  to  show  him  that  wedlock  is  for  a  man's 
good  rather  than  his  harm,  you  shall  accompany 
me.  If  I  remain  here,  I  shall  be  accused  of  igno- 
rance concerning  those  noble  works  of  ait  which 
are  to  the  sight  of  a  sculptor  what  learning  is  to  a 
man  of  genius,  and  you  will  lie  under  the  charge 
of  detaining  me.'  In  this  resolution  Mrs  Flax- 
man  fully  concurred.  They  resolved  to  prepare 
themselves  in  silence  for  the  journey,  to  inform  no 
one  of  their  intentions,  and  to  set  meantime  a  still 
stricter  watch  over  their  expenditure.  No  assistance 
was  proffered  by  the  Academy,  nor  was  any  asked  ; 
and  five  years  elapsed  from  the  day  of  the  memora- 
ble speech  of  the  President,  before  Flaxman,  by 
incessant  study  and  labor,  had  accumulated  the 
means  of  departing  for  Italy. 

"  The  image  of  Flaxman's  household  immediately 
after  his  marriage  is  preserved  in  the  description  of 


MRS   FLAXMAN.  119 

one  who  respected  his  genius  and  his  worth.  '  I 
remember  him  well,  so  do  I  his  wife,  and  also  his 
humble  little  house  in  Wardour  Street.  All  was 
neat,  nay,  elegant;  the  figures  from  which  he  stud- 
ied were  the  fairest  that  could  be  had,  and  all  in  his 
studio  was  propriety  and  order.  But  what  struck 
me  most  was  that  air  of  devout  quiet  which  reigned 
everywhere ;  the  models  which  he  made,  and  the 
designs  which  he  drew,  were  not  more  serene  than 
he  was  himself,  and  his  wife  had  that  meek  com- 
posure of  manner  which  he  so  much  loved  in  art. 
Yet  better  than  all  was  the  devout  feeling  of  this 
singular  man  ;  there  was  no  ostentatious  display  of 
piety,  nay,  he  was  in  some  sort  a  lover  of  mirth 
and  sociality,  but  he  was  a  reader  of  the  Scriptures 
and  a  worshipper  of  sincerity,  and  if  ever  purity 
visited  the  earth,  she  resided  with  John  Flaxman.'  " 
At  Rome,  Flaxman,  like  most  other  artists,  was 
obliged  to  do  something  for  his  support.  He  was 
employed  by  persons  of  his  own  nation  to  make  il- 
lustrations of  Homer,  ^Eschylus  and  Dante.  These 
splendid  works  procured  him  extensive  reputation. 
"  The  Illustrations  of  Homer  were  made  for  Mrs 
Hare  Nayler,  at  the  price  of  some  fifteen  shillings 
apiece  ;  but  the  fame  which  they  brought  to  the 
name  of  Flaxman  was  more  than  a  recompense. 
Long  ere  this  time  of  life,  he  had  shown,  in  numerous 
instances,  that  he  regarded  gold  only  as  a  thing  to 
barter  for  food  and  raiment,  and  which  enabled  him 
to  realize,  in  benevolent  deeds,  the  generous  wishes 
of  his  heart.  As  a  fountain  whence  splendorj 


120  MRS    FLAXMAN. 

honor,  and  respect  might  flow,  he  never  considered 
it —  and  in  a  plain  dress,  and  from  a  frugal  table,  he 
appeared  among  the  rich  and  the  titled,  neither 
seeking  their  notice  nor  shunning  it.  In  all  these 
sentiments  his  wife  shared.  Those  who  desire  to 
see  Flaxman  aright  during  his  seven  years'  study 
in  Italy,  must  not  forget  to  admit  into  the  picture 
the  modest  matron  who  was  ever  at  his  side,  aiding 
him  by  her  knowledge  and  directing  him  by  her 
taste.  She  was  none  of  those  knowing  dames  who 
hold  their  lords  in  a  sort  of  invisible  vassalage,  or 
with  submission  on  their  lips,  and  rebellion  in  their 
hearts,  make  the  victim  walk  as  suits  their  sove- 
reign will  and  pleasure.  No  —  they  loved  each 
other  truly  —  they  read  the  same  books  —  thought 
the  same  thoughts  —  prized  the  same  friends  — 
and,  like  bones  of  the  same  bosom,  were  at  peace 
with  each  other,  and  had  no  wish  to  be  separated. 
Their  residence  was  in  the  Via  Felice  :  and  all 
who  wished  to  be  distinguished  for  taste  or  genius 
were  visitors  of  the  sculptor's  humble  abode. 

"  After  a  residence  of  more  than  seven  years  in 
Rome,  Flaxman  returned  to  England,  hired  a  mod- 
est house  in  Buckingham  Street ;  erected  shops 
and  studios  ;  arranged  his  models  and  his  marbles  ; 
and  resolved  to  try  his  fortune  in  poetic  sculpture." 
"  For  this,"  says  the  poet  Campbell,  "  he  had  an 
expansion  of  fancy,  elevation  of  thought,  a  holy 
beauty  of  feeling.  His  female  forms  may  want 
finished  luxuriance,  but  they  have  a  charm  more 
expressive  and  inexpressible,  from  the  vestal  purity 


MRS    FLAX  MAN.  121 

of  his  sentiment,  than   finish   could   have   given 
them." 

Those  who  had  hitherto  supposed  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds  was  in  the  right,  when  he  said  wedlock 
must  spoil  Flaxman  for  an  artist,  now  began  to  think 
they  could  derive  some  honor  from  being  associated 
with  him  ;  and  he  was  unanimously  elected  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Royal  Academy.  His  fame  was  now  so 
well  established  that  he  might  have  associated  with 
the  noble  and  the  wealthy  had  his  meek  and  placid 
character  allowed  him  to  form  such  wishes.  But  he 
loved  his  home,  and  gave  himself  up  to  the  quiet, 
tasteful  amusements  of  his  own  fireside.  Sir  Tho- 
mas Lawrence  said,  "  His  solitude  was  made  en- 
joyment to  him  by  a  fancy  teeming  with  images  of 
tenderness,  purity,  or  grandeur."  Drawing  was  at 
once  his  business  and  his  recreation.  His  biogra- 
pher says,  "  there  is  a  prodigious  affluence  of  im- 
agination in  all  his  sketches  and  drawings  ;  and  his 
shops,  studio,  and  sketch-books  exhibit  them  in 
hundreds  —  nay,  in  thousands.  To  name  all  his 
sketches  would  occupy  many  pages,  and  to  describe 
them,  at  the  rate  of  five  lines  to  each,  would  be  to 
compose  a  volume.  Some  of  his  illustrations  of  the 
Pilgrim's  Progress  equal  that  religious  romance  in 
simplicity,  and  far  surpass  it  in  loftiness  ;  something 
of  the  same  sort  may  be  said  of  his  designs  for 
Sotheby's  translation  of  Oberon  —  forty  in  number. 
But  the  work  on  which  his  fancy  most  delighted  to 
expatiate  was  Hesiod.  He  loved  the  days  of  inno- 
cence and  the  age  of  gold,  when  philosophers  went 


122  MRS    FLAXMAN. 

barefooted,  kings  held  the  plough,  princesses  washed 
their  own  linen,  and  poets  sung,  like  the  northern 
minstrel,  for  food  and  raiment.  There  are  thirty- 
six  illustrations  ;  and  for  simplicity,  loveliness,  and 
grace,  they  fairly  rival  any  of  his  other  works." 

In  dress  Flaxman  was  as  plain  as  if  he  belonged 
to  the  society  of  Friends.  Unlike  most  of  his  brother 
artists,  he  kept  no  coach  or  servant  in  livery.  To 
the  men  he  employed,  he  was  extremely  liberal  and 
kind.  "  When  they  were  ill,  he  continued  their 
wages,  and  paid  their  doctor's  bill.  He  made  him- 
self acquainted  with  their  wants,  and  with  their 
families,  and  aided  them  in  the  most  agreeable  and 
delicate  way.  If  any  of  them  were  unavoidably 
absent,  he  said,  '  Providence  made  six  days  for 
work  in  the  week  ;  take  your  full  wages.'  He  was 
so  generally  beloved,  and  so  widely  known,  that  if 
you  stopped  a  tipsy  mason  in  the  street,  and  asked 
him  what  he  thought  of  John  Flaxman,  he  would 
answer,  '  The  best  master  God  ever  made.'  No 
'alloy  of  meanness  mingled  with  his  nature.  He  has 
been  known  to  return  part  of  the  money  for  a  mon- 
ument when  he  thought  the  price  too  high." 

An  eminent  artist  said  of  him,  ''Flaxman  is  in- 
accessible either  to  censure  or  praise  —  he  is  proud 
but  not  shy  ;  diffident  but  not  retiring  —  as  plain 
as  a  peasant  in  his  dress,  and  as  humble  as  the 
rudest  clown,  yet  even  all  that  unites  in  making  up 
this  remarkable  mixture  of  simplicity  and  genius  — 
and  were  you  to  try  any  other  ingredients,  may  I 
be  hanged  if  you  would  form  so  glorious  a  crea- 


MRS    FLAXMAN.  J23 

ture  !  "  He  paused  a  little,  and  added,  "  I  wish 
he  would  not  bow  so  low  to  the  lowly  —  his  civil- 
ity oppresses." 

A  distinguished  sculptor  being  asked  concerning 
Flaxman's  mode  of  study  and  his  conversation,  re- 
plied, "I  cannot  tell  you.  He  lived  as  if  he  did 
not  belong  to  the  world  —  his  ways  were  not  our 
ways.  He  had  odd  fashions  —  he  dressed  —  you 
know  how  he  dressed  :  he  dined  at  one  —  wrought 
after  dinner,  which  no  other  artist  does  —  drank 
tea  at  six :  and  then,  sir,  no  one  ever  found  him  in 
the  evening  parties  of  the  rich  or  the  noble ':  he 
was  happy  at  home,  and  so  he  kept  himself;  of  all 
the  members  of  the  Academy,  the  man  whom  I 
know  least  of  is  Flaxman." 

His  conversation  was  more  frequently  lively,  gay, 
and  eloquent  than  serious.  The  following  circum- 
stance will  give  an  idea  of  the  sports  of  fancy  in 
which  he  sometimes  indulged.  He  once  bought  a 
small  Chinese  casket,  of  very  rich  workmanship, 
and  gave  it  to  his  wife  and  sister.  The  ladies 
placed  it  upon  the  table  before  them,  and  while  the 
sculptor  was  sketching,  began  to  talk  about  the  pres- 
ent. "  This  is  a  pretty  thing,"  said  one,  "  and  not 
made  yesterday  either  :  its  history  must  be  curious." 
"  Curious,  no  doubt,"  said  the  other,  "  we  can  easi- 
ly make  a  history  for  it.  What  is  it  without  its 
genealogy  ?  —  was  it  not  made  in  the  reign  of  the 
illustrious  Ching-Fu,  by  one  of  the  muses  of  China, 
to  hold  the  golden  maxims  of  Confucius  ?"  "  And 
obtained  in  barter,"  continued  the  other,  "  for  glass 


124  MRS    FLAXMAN. 

beads  and  twopenny  knives,  by  one  of  those  wan- 
dering genii  called  in  Britain  trading  captains  ?" 
Flaxman  smiled  at  this  history,  and  forthwith  set 
to  work  with  pen  and  pencil. 

He  composed  a  poem  of  some  hundred  lines  de- 
scribing the  adventures  of  the  casket.  A  princess 
of  China  is  informed  by  a  nightingale  that  there  is 
a  splendid  casket  in  the  bowers  of  paradise,  guard- 
ed by  genii  —  she  obtains  the  wonderful  treasure 

—  a  magician,  riding  through  the   air    on   winged 
tigers,  wishes  to  fill  the  box  with  spells  and  magic 

—  The  princess  and  her  sisters  hurl  the  enchant- 
er   down    amid    hissing    serpents    and     sulphur- 
ous flame  —  The   casket   is  deposited  on   Mount 
ITermon  —  the  genii  bestow  it  on  a  good  poet,  who 
fills  it  with  virtuous  maxims  and  verses,  and  an  an- 
gel guards  it —  The  poet  dies,  and  another  has  pos- 
session of  it ;  at  first  his  strains  are  pure  and  virtu- 
ous ;  but    he    indulges  in    wanton    thoughts,    and 
indignant  angeis  snatch  the  casket  away  —  They 
float  through  the  air  with  the  precious  burden,  and 
deliver  it    to  the   sea-maids  and   tritons,  who  with 
shout   and  song   convey  it  across  the   ocean  ;  the 
Genius  of  the  British  Isle  finally  receives  it.     Ten 
sketches  in  pencil  illustrated  the  story. 

A  similar  effort  of  his  genius,  was  dedicated  to 
his  wife,  in  a  manner  alike  affectionate  and  tasteful. 

lie  caused  a  quarto  volume  to  be  made,  in  which 
he  wrote  the  story  and  illustrated  the  adventures  of 
a  Christian  hero,  who  goes  out  into  the  world  to 
protect  the  weak,  aid  the  suffering,  and  punish  the 


MRS     FLAXMAN.  125 

bad.  Temptations  in  every  form  surround  him  — 
good  and  evil  spirits  contend  for  victory  —  his  own 
passions  are  around  him  in  terrific  shapes  —  he 
follows  a  guardian  angel,  and  escapes  all  dangers  — 
becomes  a  purified  spirit,  and  is  commissioned  to 
watch  over  the  good  on  earth.  In  this  capacity  he 
spreads  spiritual  light  around,  watches  over  inno- 
cence, and  protects  the  oppressed. 

The  sketches,  which  are  forty  in  number,  are 
delicate,  graceful,  full  of  poetic  beauty,  and  sur- 
rounded as  it  were,  by  a  serene  and  holy  atmos- 
phere. "  On  the  first  page  of  this  book  was  drawn 
a  dove,  with  an  olive-branch  in  her  mouth  ;  an  an- 
gel is  on  each  side,  and  between  is  written,  '  To 
Ann  Flaxman  ;'  below,  two  hands  are  clasped,  as 
at  the  altar,  two  cherubs  bear  a  garland,  and  the 
following  inscription  to  his  wife  introduces  the 
subject :  '  The  anniversary  of  your  birthday  calls 
on  me  to  be  grateful  for  fourteen  happy  years  pass- 
ed in  your  society.  Accept  the  tribute  of  these 
sketches,  which,  under  the  allegory  of  a  knight 
errant's  adventures,  indicate  the  trials  of  virtue  and 
the  conquest  of  vice,  preparatory  to  a  happier  state 
of  existence.  After  the  hero  is  called  to  the  spirit- 
ual world,  and  blest  with  a  celestial  union,  he  is 
armed  with  power,  for  the  exercise  of  his  ministry, 
and  for  fulfilling  the  dispensations  of  Providence; 
he  becomes  the  associate  of  Faith,  Hope,  and 
Charity,  and,  as  universal  Benevolence,  is  employed 
in  acts  of  mercy  —  John  Flaxman,  October  2, 
1796." 


126  MRS     FLAX  MAN. 

"  For  thirtyeight  years  Flaxman  lived  wedde,' — 
his  health  was  generally  good,  his  spirits  ever  equal  ; 
and  his  wife,  to  whom  his  fame  was  happiness,  had 
been  always  at  his  side.  She  was  a  most  cheerful, 
intelligent  woman,  a  collector  too  of  drawings  and 
sketches,  and  an  admirer  of  Stothard,  of  whose  de- 
signs and  prints  she  had  amassed  more  than  a 
thousand.  Her  husband  paid  her  the  double  re- 
spect due  to  affection  and  talent,  and  when  any 
difficulty  in  composition  occurred,  he  would  say, 
with  a  smile,  '  Ask  Mrs  Flaxman,  she  is  my  dic- 
tionary.' She  maintained  the  simplicity  and  dig- 
nity of  her  husband,  and  refused  all  presents  of 
paintings,  or  drawings,  or  books,  unless  some  recip- 
rocal interchange  were  made.  It  is  almost  needless 
to  say  that  Flaxman  loved  such  a  woman  very  ten- 
derly. The  hour  of  their  separation  approached 
—  she  fell  ill  and  died  in  the  year  1820,  and  from 
the  time  of  this  bereavement  something  like  a  leth- 
argy came  over  his  spirit. 

"  He  was  now  in  his  sixtysixth  year,  and  sur- 
rounded with  the  applause  of  the  world.  His  stu- 
dios were  filled  with  orders  and  commissions.  His 
sister —  a  lady  of  taste  and  talent  like  his  own  — 
and  his  wife's  sister  were  of  his  household  ;  but 
she  who  had  shared  all  his  joys  and  sorrows  was 
gone,  and  nothing  could  comfort  him." 

He  continued,  however,  the  same  habits  of  in- 
dustry, the  same  kind  interest  in  the  situation  and 
wishes  of  others,  the  same  cheerful  intercourse  with 
his  few  cherished  friends.  His  health  was  feeble, 
but  he  suffered  little. 


MRS    FLAXMAN.  127 

One  morning  a  stranger  called  upon  him,  and, 
presenting  a  book,  said,  "  This  work  was  sent  to 
you  by  an  Italian  artist,  and  I  am  requested  to  apol- 
ogize for  its  extraordinary  dedication.  It  was 
generally  believed  throughout  Italy  that  you  were 
dead ;  and  my  friend,  wishing  to  show  the  world 
how  much  he  esteemed  your  genius,  has  inscribed 
his  book  '  Al  ombra  di  Flaxman,'  [To  the  shade 
of  Flaxman.~\  No  sooner  was  it  published,  than 
the  report  of  your  death  was  contradicted  ;  and 
the  author,  affected  by  his  mistake,  (which  he 
rejoices  to  find  a  mistake)  begs  you  will  receive  his 
work  as  an  apology." 

"  Flaxman  smiled  —  accepted  the  volume  with 
unaffected  modesty,  and  mentioned  the  circum- 
stance as  curious  to  his  own  family,  and  some  of 
his  friends." 

This  singular  occurrence  happened  on  the  2d  of 
December.  The  next  day  he  took  a  cold,  from 
which  he  never  recovered.  He  died  peacefully,  as 
he  had  lived.  The  following  words  are  inscribed 
on  his  tomb. 

"  John  Flaxman,  R.  A.  P.  S.,  whose  mortal  life 
was  a  constant  preparation  for  a  blessed  immortali- 
ty ;  his  angelic  spirit  returned  to  the  Divine  Giver, 
on  the  7th  of  December,  1826,  in  the  seventy- 
second  year  of  his  age." 

"  Peace  be  with  the  memory  of  him  who  died," 
as  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence  happily  said,  "  in  his  own 
small  circle  of  affection  ;  enduring  pain,  but  full  of 
meekness,  gratitude,  and  faith !" 


MRS   BLAKE, 

WIFE    OF    WILLIAM    BLAKE. 

WILLIAM  BLAKE,  the  painter,  was  the  intimate 
friend  of  Flaxman,  and  was  one  of  the  most  singu- 
lar men  that  ever  lived.  All  his  productions  whether 
of  the  pen,  or  the  pencil,  were  characterized  by  a 
sublime  mistiness,  a  wild  obscurity,  a  strange,  in- 
comprehensible beauty.  It  seemed  as  if  he  were  a 
spirit  returned  from  the  regions  of  the  dead,  bring- 
ing with  him  recollections  two  glorious  and  too 
awful  to  be  embodied  by  human  genius,  yet  through 
his  whole  life  struggling  to  express  his  conceptions, 
as  we  strive  to  speak  in  our  dreams. 

He  lived  in  a  visionary  world,  and  according  to 
his  own  account  visions  were  ever  around  him. 
One  evening  when  a  friend  called  upon  him  he 
whispered,  "  Disturb  me  not,  I  have  one  sitting  to 
me."  "I  see  no  one!"  exclaimed  his  friend. 
"  But  I  see  him,  sir,"  answered  Blake  ;  "  There  he 
is  —  his  name  is  Lot ;  you  may  read  of  him  in  the 
Scripture.  He  is  sitting  for  his  portrait." 

Innumerable  were  the  spiritual  visitants,  whom 
he  portrayed  on  canvas.  He  had  a  very  rich  and 


MRS    BLAKE.  129 

peculiar  mode  of  engraving  and  tinting  his  plates, 
which  he  said  was  revealed  to  him  by  the  spirit  of 
his  deceased  brother  ;  he  kept  the  secret  to  him- 
self, and  other  artists  have  been  unable  to  discover  it. 

His  poetic  mind  threw  its  own  glowing  coloring 
over  the  most  ordinary  occurrences  of  life.  "  Did 
you  ever  see  a  fairy's  funeral,  madam  ?"  he  once 
said  to  a  lady,  who  happened  to  sit  by  him  in  com- 
pany. "  Never,  sir  !"  was  the  answer.  "  I  have," 
said  Blake,  "  but  not  before  last  night.  I  was  walk- 
ing alone  in  my  garden,  there  was  great  stillness 
among  the  branches  and  flowers  and  more  than 
common  sweetness  in  the  air  ;  I  heard  a  low  and 
pleasant  sound,  and  I  knew  not  whence  it  came. 
At  last  I  saw  the  broad  leaf  of  a  flower  move, 
and  underneath  I  saw  a  procession  of  creatures  of 
the  size  and  color  of  green  and  gray  grasshoppers, 
bearing  a  body  laid  out  on  a  rose  leaf,  which  they 
buried  with  songs,  and  then  disappeared.  It  was 
a  fairy  funeral." 

His  high  aspirations  and  brilliant  fancies  must 
have  come  from  the  world  within  him  ;  for  he  had 
few  opportunities  to  observe  those  beautiful  and 
magnificent  productions,  in  which  genius  has  given 
shadowy  revelations  of  what  it  has  dreamed  in 
heaven. 

His  earlier  and  his  later  lot  was  poverty.  He 
was  industrious  ;  but  he  would  work  in  his  o\vn 
wild  freedom,  and  patrons  did  not  understand  him. 
Besides,  he  considered  a  love  of  gain  as  the  destroy- 
ing angel  of  all  that  is  godlike  in  human  nature. 
9 


130  MRS   BLAKE. 

"  Were  I  to  love  money,"  he  said,  "  I  should  Jose 
all  power  of  thought ;  desire  of  gain  deadens  the 
genius  of  man.  I  might  roll  in  wealth  and  ride  in 
a  golden  chariot,  were  I  to  listen  to  the  voice  of 
parsimony.  My  business  is  not  to  gather  gold,  but 
to  make  glorious  shapes,  expressing  godlike  senti- 
ments." 

His  father  was  a  respectable  hosier,  who  intend- 
ed his  son  for  the  same  trade  ;  but  between  the 
rival  attractions  of  poetry  and  painting,  the  lad  was, 
as  the  Scotch  say,  "  clean  daft ;"  and  it  was  deem- 
ed prudent  to  apprentice  him  to  an  engraver.  I 
will  give  the  account  of  his  marriage  in  the  words 
of  Allan  Cunningham  ;  for  the  simple  reason  that 
it  is  impossible  for  me  to  do  it  so  well : 

"  When  he  was  six-and-twenty  years  old,  he  mar- 
ried Katharine  Boutcher,  a  young  woman  of  humble 
connexions,  the  dark-eyed  Kate  of  several  of  his 
lyric  poems.  She  lived  near  his  father's  house, 
and  was  noticed  by  Blake  for  the  whiteness  of  her 
hand,  the  brightness  of  her  eyes,  and  a  slim  and 
handsome  shape,  corresponding  with  his  own  no- 
tions of  sylphs  and  nai'ads.  As  he  was  an  original 
in  all  things,  it  would  have  been  out  of  character 
to  fall  in  love  like  an  ordinary  mortal  :  he  was  de- 
scribing one  evening  in  company  the  pains  he  had 
suffered  from  some  capricious  lady  or  another, 
when  Katharine  Boutcher  said,  '  I  pity  you  from 
my  heart.'  '  Do  you  pity  me  ? '  said  Blake, 
'then  I  love  you  for  that.'  'And  I  love  you,' 
said  the  frank-hearted  lass,  and  so  the  courtship 


MRS    BLAKE.  131 

began.  He  tried  how  well  she  looked  in  a  drawing, 
then  how  her  charms  became  verse  ;  and  finding 
moreover  that  she  had  good  domestic  qualities, 
he  married  her.  They  lived  together  long  and 
happily. 

"  She  seemed  to  have  been  created  on  purpose  for 
Blake  :  she  believed  him  to  be  the  finest  genius  on 
earth;  she  believed  in  his  verse;  she  believed  in 
his  designs  ;  and  to  the  wildest  flights  of  his  imag- 
ination she  bowed  the  knee  and  was  a  worshipper. 
She  set  his  house  in  good  order,  prepared  his  frugal 
meal,  learned  to  think  as  he  thought,  and,  indulging 
him  in  his  harmless  absurdities,  became  as  it  were 
bone  of  his  bone,  and  flesh  of  his  flesh.  She  learn- 
ed —  what  a  young  and  handsome  woman  is  sel- 
dom apt  to  learn  —  to  despise  gaudy  dresses,  cost- 
ly meals,  pleasant  company,  and  agreeable  invita- 
tions —  she  found  out  the  way  of  being  happy  at 
home,  living  on  the  simplest  of  food,  and  content- 
ed in  the  homeliest  of  clothing.  It  was  no  ordi- 
nary mind  which  could  do  all  this  ;  and  she  whom 
Blake  emphatically  called  his  '  beloved,'  was  no 
ordinary  woman.  She  wrought  off  in  the  press  the 
impressions  of  his  plates — she  colored  them  with 
a  light  and  neat  hand — made  drawings  much  in 
the  spirit  of  his  compositions,  and  almost  rivalled 
him  in  all  tilings,  save  in  the  power  which  he  pos- 
sessed of  seeing  visions  of  any  individual  living  or 
flead,  whenever  he  chose  to  see  them. 

"  Many  of  his  noblest  productions  were  accom- 
plished '  in   a  small  room,  which  served  him  for 


132  MRS    BLAKE. 

kitchen,  bed-chamber,  and  study,  where  he  had  no 
other  companion  but  his  faithful  Katharine,  and  no 
larger  income  than  seventeen  or  eighteen  shillings 
a  week.'  He  was  not  a  man  to  grow  rich  as  he 
grew  older,  and  he  must  have  suffered  in  the  de- 
cline of  life,  had  not  his  brother  artists  assisted 
him.  Engraving  by  day,  and  seeing  visions  by  night, 
he  attained  his  seventy  first  year,  and  the  strength  of 
nature  was  fast  yielding.  Yet  he  was  to  the  last 
cheerful  and  contented.  '  I  glory,'  he  said,  '  in 
dying,  arid  have  no  grief  but  in  leaving  you,  Katha- 
rine ;  we  have  lived  happy,  and  we  have  lived  long  ; 
we  have  been  ever  together,  but  we  shall  be  divided 
soon.  Why  should  I  fear  death  ?  nor  do  1  fear 
it.  I  have  endeavored  to  live  as  Christ  commands, 
and  have  sought  to  worship  God  truly  —  in  my  own 
house,  when  I  was  not  seen  of  men.'  He  grew 
weaker  and  weaker — he  could  no  longer  sit  up- 
right ;  and  was  laid  in  his  bed,  with  no  one  to 
watch  over  him,  save  his  wife,  who,  feeble  and  old 
herself,  required  help  in  such  a  touching  duty." 

The  Ancient  of  Days  was  such  a  favorite  with 
Blake,  that  three  days  before  his  death,  he  sat 
bolstered  up  in  bed,  and  tinted  with  his  choicest 
colors  and  in  his  happiest  style.  He  touched  and 
retouched  it  —  held  it  at  arm's  length,  and  then 
threw  it  from  him,  exclaiming,  "  There !  that  will 
do  !  I  cannot  mend  it."  He  saw  his  wife  in  tears 
—  she  felt  that  this  was  to  be  the  last  of  his  works 
• —  "  Stay,  Kate  !  "  cried  Blake,  "  keep  just  as  you 
are  —  I  will  draw  your  portrait — for  you  have 


MRS    BLAKE.  '133 

ever  been  an  angel  to  me  "  —  she  obeyed,  and  the 
dying  artist  made  a  fine  likeness. 

The  very  joyfulness  with  which  this  singular  man 
welcomed  the  coming  of  death,  made  his  dying  mo- 
ments intensely  mournful.  He  lay  chanting  songs, 
and  the  verses  and  the  music  were  both  the  offspring 
of  the  moment.  He  lamented  that  he  could  no 
longer  commit  those  inspirations,  as  he  called  them, 
to  paper.  "  Kate,"  he  said,  "  I  am  a  changing  man 
—  I  always  rose  and  wrote  down  my  thoughts, 
whether  it  rained,  snowed,  or  shone,  and  you  arose 
too  and  sat  beside  me — this  can  be  no  longer." 
He  died  on  the  12th  of  August,  1828,  without  any 
visible  pain  —  his  wife,  who  sat  watching  him,  did 
not  perceive  when  he  ceased  breathing. 


MRS    LUTHER, 

WIFE    OF    MARTIN    LUTHER. 

IT  would  be  unnecessary  to  speak  of  Luther  as 
a  Reformer  even  if  the  characters  and  proceedings 
of  public  men  were  connected  with  the  purposes  of 
this  volume  :  his  biography  forms  a  part  of  the  world's 
history,  and  marks  one  of  the  grandest  epochs 
in  the  progress  of  the  human  mind.  We  hardly 
need  to  be  told  that  he  was  learned,  enthusiastic 
and  daring ;  for  we  instantly  feel  that  none  but 
such  a  man  could,  or  would,  have  undertaken  the 
great  work  he  performed.  The  reformation  of 
extensive  evils,  —  evils  sanctioned  by  self-interest 
and  sustained  by  power, —  has  always  been  affect- 
ed by  individuals  bold  and  zealous  even  to  rashness. 
The  timid  and  the  cautious  fall  into  the  ranks 
when  the  danger  is  over,  and  often  share  the  tri- 
umph ;  but  what  the  world  calls  "  a  prudent  man" 
would  never  answer  for  a  pioneer  in  the  cause  either 
of  civil  or  religious  liberty.  There  is  always  a 
vast  mass  of  energy  and  talent  lying  latent  in  the 
community ;  and  it  is  a  beautiful  feature  in  God's 
providence  that  the  progress  of  events  inevitably 
produces  the  very  characters,  and  elicits  the  very 
qualities,  that  are  most  needed. 


MRS   LUTHER.  135 

In  the  sixteenth  century  a  strong  and  fearless 
champion  was  required  against  the  insupportable  ty- 
ranny and  gross  corruptions  of  the  Church  of  Rome  ; 
and  the  excess  of  papal  pride  prepared  the  way  for 
its  own  destruction  by  kindling  the  impetuous  in- 
dignation of  Martin  Luther. 

Fortunately  for  the  world,  the  active  mind  of  this 
great  man,  was  never  subjected  to  the  enervating 
influences  of  wealth  and  luxury.  He  was  born  in 
an  obscure  village  of  Saxony,  in  the  year  1483 ;  his 
father  was  a  miner.  At  fourteen  years  of  age, 
when  he  was  at  school  in  Eisenach,  he  was  oblig- 
ed, with  other  poor  students,  to  gain  a  living  by 
singing  before  the  doors  of  houses.  He  used  to  call 
this  "  bread  music."  But  although  he  had  an  un- 
commonly fine  voice,  he  did  not  always  obtain  a 
supper  for  a  song  ;  and  sometimes  he  met  with 
proud  refusals,  and  unkind  reproaches,  exceedingly 
grievous  to  his  noble  and  independent  nature.  One 
day,  when  he  was  entirely  overcome  with  dejection 
and  shame,  the  wife  of  a  worthy  citizen,  named 
Conrad  Cotta,  took  pity  upon  him,  and  refreshed 
him  liberally  with  food.  His  manners  prepossessed 
the  good  woman  so  much  in  his  favor  that  she  ob- 
tained her  husband's  permission  to  take  him  into 
the  house,  and  provide  for  him  until  he  was  fitted 
for  the  university. 

After  staying  three  years  at  Eisenach,  he  went 
to  the  University  of  Erfurt.  Here  he  soon  became 
renowned  for  his  scholarship.  It  was  his  father's 
wish  that  he  should  study  law  ;  but  several  fits  of 


136  MRS    LUTHER. 

illness,  and  the  loss  of  an  intimate  friend,  who  was 
struck  dead  at  his  side  by  lightning,  spread  some- 
thing of  gloom  over  his  rnind,  and  he  suddenly  re- 
solved to  become  a  monk.  His  parents,  who  were 
very  pious  and  sensible  people,  tried  in  vain  to  dis- 
suade him  from  what  he  deemed  a  conscientious 
sacrifice  to  God.  He  strictly  fulfilled  his  monastic 
duties,  even  to  the  humiliating  task  of  standing 
porter  at  the  door,  and  going  through  the  town  to 
beg  alms  for  the  convent;  but  it  was  a  course  of 
life  which  ill  suited  his  free  and  active  temper  ;  and 
a  heaviness  which  he  could  not  dispel,  took  posses- 
sion of  his  spirit. 

He  was  removed  from  these  depressing  influences 
by  the  friendship  of  a  nobleman,  who  recommended 
him  as  a  public  teacher  of  philosophy  in  the  Uni- 
versity at  Wittemberg.  Here  his  mind,  no  longer 
cramped  by  unnatural  circumstances,  resumed  its 
expansive  power  ;  and  his  learning  and  eloquence 
soon  gained  him  friends  among  the  powerful  and 
distinguished.  A  mission  to  Rome  gave  him  but 
too  many  proofs  of  the  profligacy  and  hypocrisy 
then  prevailing  in  the  church,  and  he  expressed 
his  opinion  without  respect  of  persons.  By  degrees 
he  became  engaged  in  an  angry  controversy.  The 
Pope  tried  to  overawe  him  ;  but  Luther  had  a  spirit 
that  would  not  bend,  and  could  not  be  broken. 
Some  of  the  German  princes,  and  a  large  body  of 
the  people,  tired  of  papal  oppression,  sincerely  wish- 
ed well  to  Luther  and  his  cause.  Emboldened  by 
safety  and  success,  he  went  on  attacking,  one  after 


MRS  LUTHER.  137 

another,  the  strong  holds  of  Catholic  power.  The 
Pope  issued  decrees  forbidding  all  people  to  read 
his  writings,  and  threatening  him  with  excommuni- 
cation, and  the  sentence  of  outlawry,  (by  Xvhich 
any  one  who  met  him  had  a  right  to  kill  him)  if  he 
did  not  recant  what  he  had  written.  The  Emperor 
Charles  the  Fifth  being  called  upon  to  put  his 
threat  in  execution,  summoned  Luther  to  appear 
before  a  Diet  at  Worms.  His  friends  earnestly  en- 
treated him  not  to  go,  believing  he  would  not  return 
alive  ;  but  the  undaunted  reformer  replied,  "  I  will 
go,  if  there  be  as  many  devils  at  Worms  as  there 
are  tiles  on  the  roofs  of  the  houses." 

He  maintained  his  cause  with  firmness  and  elo- 
quence ;  concluding  by  saying,  "  I  neither  can  nor 
will  recant,  because  it  is  not  safe,  or  advisable,  to 
do  anything  which  is  against  my  conscience.  Here 
I  stand.  I  cannot  do  otherwise,  so  help  me  God  ! 
Amen." 

Many  of  his  enemies  tried  to  persuade  Charles 
the  Fifth  to  break  the  promise  he  had  given,  that 
Luther  should  be  safely  conveyed  home ;  telling 
him  he  was  under  no  obligation  to  keep  his  word 
to  a  heretic  ;  but  to  this  the  Emperor  replied, 
"  What  is  promised  must  be  performed.  And  even  if 
the  whole  world  should  lie,  princes  ought  to  adhere 
to  the  truth." 

Luther  accordingly  departed  from  Worms  under 
the  protection  of  a  strong  escort,  after  having  re- 
ceived the  most  flattering  attentions  from  several 
princes,  and  persons  of  distinction.  A  singular 


139  MRS    LUTHER. 

circumstance  occurred  while  he  was  dining  with 
the  Elector  of  Treves ;  just  as  he  was  raising  a 
glass  of  wine  to  his  lips,  the  glass  suddenly  shiver- 
ed into  atoms.  It  was  a  prevalent  opinion  among 
the  guests  that  some  kind  of  strong  poison  had 
been  infused  into  the  wine. 

On  his  way  home  he  was  attacked  by  a  couple 
of  knights,  taken  prisoner,  and  conveyed  to  the 
Castle  of  Wartburg.  This  proved,  however,  to  be 
the  friendly  interference  of  the  Elector  of  Saxony, 
who  wished  to  secrete  him  for  a  time  from  the 
active  hatred  of  the  Catholics.  At  the  Castle,  he 
was  known  only  by  the  name  of  Sir  George  ;  and 
elsewhere  it  was  generally  believed  he  had  been 
killed,  or  taken  prisoner  by  his  enemies.  Here  he 
began  his  translation  of  the  New  Testament ;  and 
by  his  exertions  the  Bible  was  distributed  among  a 
mass  of  benighted  people,  to  whom  it  had  been  ex- 
pressly forbidden  by  the  priests. 

It  was  the  policy  of  the  ignorant  and  insidious 
monks  of  that  day  to  keep  the  people  in  darkness  ; 
one  of  them  says,  "  I  observe  in  the  hands  of  many 
persons  a  book  which  they  call  the  Ntw  Testament. 
It  is  a  book  full  of  daggers  and  poison.  As  to  the 
Hebrew,  my  dear  brethren,  it  is  certain  that  who- 
ever learns  it  becomes  immediately  a  Jew." 

Such  teachers  of  course  had  a  most  unbounded 
dislike  to  the  man  who  had  both  the  will  and  the 
courage  to  spread  light  among  the  people  ;  and  it 
is  no  wonder  that  numerous  attempts  were  made  to 
assassinate  him.  In  this  perilous  situation  his  life 


MRS    LUTHER.  139 

could  not  have  been  saved,  had  not  God  so  disposed 
the  hearts  of  princes,  that  they  wished  to  preserve 
him  as  a  salutary  check  against  the  tyranny  of  the 
pope. 

In  one  form  the  power  of  the  church  was  severe- 
ly felt,  by  innumerable  victims  of  both  sexes.  The 
revenues  of  the  church,  and  the  strength  of  its  in- 
fluence, were  prodigiously  increased  by  monastic 
institutions  ;  hence  it  became  a  matter  of  policy  to 
decoy  young  persons  into  toils  from  which  they 
could  never  escape.  All  the  awful,  and  all  the  se- 
ductive power  of  the  Catholic  religion  was  used  to 
effect  this  purpose.  The  young  girl,  just  emerg- 
ing from  childhood,  was  taught  that  there  was 
something  holy  and  beautiful  in  being  the  bride  of 
Heaven.  The  ceremony  of  taking  the  veil  was  in- 
vested with  all  the  pomp  and  gayety  of  a  wedding  ; 
the  brain  of  the  young  victim  was  made  giddy 
with  her  own  momentary  importance,  and  the  splen- 
did preparations  for  her  spiritual  nuptials  ;  music 
lent  its  powerful  aid  to  a  species  of  mental  intoxi- 
cation, in  which  human  vanity  was  strangely  blend- 
ed with  feelings  more  holy  and  mysterious  :  and  in 
this  delirium  of  fancy  and  of  feeling,  the  simple 
maiden  took  the  solemn  vow,  which  forever  separa- 
ted her  from  all  the  best  and  purest  hopes  of  the 
human  heart.  It  was  indeed  possible  to  return  to 
the  world  after  the  veil  of  probationship  had  been 
fastened  on  the  innocent  head  by  a  wreath  of  flow- 
ers;  but  public  opinion  branded  such  a  step  as 
capricious  and  impious,  and  the  priests  declared 


149  MUS    LUTHER. 

that  it  drew  down  the  vengeance  of  an  offended 
God.  How  could  a  timid  girl  be  expected  to  brave 
at  once  the  terrors  of  earth  and  Heaven  ?  With 
few  exceptions,  they  lingered  on  —  and  took  the 
perpetual  vow  —  and  learned  too  late  that  the  hu- 
man heart  must  have  human  affections.  Some  were 
no  doubt  comparatively  happy ;  but  by  far  the 
greater  part  passed  their,  existence  in  a  perpetual 
struggle  between  the  natural  yearnings  of  the  heart, 
and  the  unnatural  duties  imposed  upon  them  by 
their  religion.  And  to  these  deluded  victims  were 
added  many  unwilling  ones,  forced  into  monastic 
seclusion  by  ambitious  parents,  who  were  desirous 
to  concentrate  their  wealth  and  honors  upon  one 
favored  child. 

The  spirit  of  light  and  liberty  diffused  by  Luther, 
found  its  way  even  into  the  dark  recesses  of  the 
cloister.  It  became  no  uncommon  thing  for  monks 
to  quit  their  profession  ;  and  at  last  woman's  feebler 
nature  arose  and  shook  off  the  yoke  that  had  brok- 
en many  a  pure  and  loving  heart.  In  J523,  nine 
nuns  escaped  from  the  Convent  of  Nirnptschen, 
near  Grimma.  This  event  of  course  produced  a 
great  excitement ;  even  the  princes  who  were  favor- 
able to  the  reformed  religion  did  not  dare  to  protect 
the  fugitives  openly. 

But  Luther,  as  usual,  scorned  to  proceed  with 
caution.  He  wrote  and  spoke  boldly  in  defence 
of  the  nuns,  and  praised  those  who  had  assisted 
them  to  escape.  He  even  went  so  far  as  to  throw 
off  the  monastic  habit,  which  he  had  continued  to 


MRS    LUTHER.  141 

wear  until  that  time.  Among  the  nuns  was  Cathe- 
rine de  Bora,  a  handsome  woman,  of  highly  respect- 
able family,  who  became  the  object  of  a  very  strong 
and  enduring  attachment  on  the  part  of  Luther. 
Some  lingering  prejudices  concerning  the  propriety 
of  marriage  between  a  monk  and  nun  induced  him 
to  repress  his  feelings  for  a  time.  But  finding 
nothing  in  Scripture  to  support  his  scruples,  and 
being  strongly  urged  to  it  by  his  revered  parents, 
he  suddenly  resolved  to  marry.  He  was  united  to 
Catherine  de  Bora  in  1525 ;  the  bridegroom  was 
fortytwo  years  old,  and  the  bride  twentysix.  Con- 
sidering the  state  of  public  opinion  at  that  period, 
the  power  and  rage  of  his  enemies,  and  his  own 
want  of  fortune,  it  was  certainly  a  very  bold  step  ; 
but  it  was  one  which  he  never  repented.  The  ad- 
vocates of  the  Romish  church  took  this  occasion  to 
pour  forth  a  fresh  torrent  of  abuse.  Some  affirm- 
ed that  he  was  insane  ;  others  that  he  was  possess- 
ed by  an  evil  spirit ;  and  many  loaded  both  him  and 
his  wife  with  epithets  which  it  would  pollute  these 
pages  to  quote.  The  storm  raged  with  such  fury, 
that  even  the  courageous  Luther  was  a  little  dis- 
heartened at  first.  He  says,  "  My  marriage  has 
made  me  so  despicable,  that  I  hope  my  humiliation 
will  rejoice  the  angels  and  vex  the  devils." 

But  a  man  conscious  of  thoroughly  upright  mo- 
tives cannot  long  be  put  out  of  countenance  by 
the  injustice  of  public  opinion.  Catherine  proved 
a  helpmate  indeed;  and  in  her  faithful  love,  he 
found  perpetual  consolation.  Her  unremitting 


142  MRS    LUTHER. 

tenderness  during  his  frequent  attacks  of  illne  ss, 
called  forth  his  warmest  gratitude ;  and  when  he 
spoke  of  her  to  his  friends,  her  name  was  always 
coupled  with  the  most  affectionate  expressions. 

In  a  temperament  like  his,  disease  naturally  in- 
duced occasional  gloom  and  petulance,  which  she 
bore  with  the  most  unvarying  good  temper  ;  always 
exerting  her  influence  to  soothe  and  enliven  him. 
By  these  means  she  obtained  such  hold  upon  his 
affections,  that  he  was  wont  to  compare  his  greatest 
temporal  blessings  with  her.  His  favorite  produc- 
tion was  his  Commentary  on  Galatians :  and  he 
showed  his  preference  by  always  calling  it  "  his 
Catherine  de  Bora." 

He  was  apt  to  linger  long  in  the  company  of  his 
wife  and  children,  and  never  denied  himself  this 
gratification  except  when  he  was  engaged  in  finish- 
ing some  great  work.  Once,  he  locked  himself  up 
in  his  study,  and  remained  three  days  and  three 
nights  without  any  other  nourishment  than  bread 
and  water.  For  some  time  his  wife  refrained  from 
disturbing  him  ;  but  finding  her  repeated  calls  at 
the  door  unanswered,  she  became  very  much  alarm- 
ed, and  at  last  persuaded  some  persons  to  break 
into  the  room.  Luther  was  at  his  writing-desk  en- 
tirely absorbed  in  meditation  when  they  entered. 
At  first  he  was  displeased  at  the  intrusion,  and 
said  to  her,  "  Do  you  not  know  that  I  must  work 
while  it  is  day,  for  the  night  cometh  wherein  no  one 
can  work  ?"  But  his  heart  was  soon  touched,  when 
she  told  him  how  much  anxiety  he  had  caused  her. 


MRS    LUTHER.  143 

Like  most  courageous  and  enthusiastic  men,  Luther 
had  a  heart  as  docile  and  affectionate  as  a  little 
child.  He  could  never  see  his  wife  or  children  suf- 
fer, without  shedding  tears ;  and  once,  when  he 
was  spectator  of  a  chase,  he  tried  to  save  the  life  of 
a  poor  little  trembling  hare,  by  wrapping  it  in  his 
cloak  ;  the  dogs  however,  discovered  it,  and  kill- 
ed it. 

His  disposition  was  frank  and  social,  and  his 
conversation  was  alike  distinguished  for  learning 
and  playfulness.  He  was  no  friend  to  large  parties. 
He  once  said,  "  I  waste  a  great  deal  of  time  by  go- 
ing to  entertainments.  I  do  not  know  what  devil 
has  given  rise  to  this  custom.  I  cannot  well  refuse 
to  go  to  them,  but  at  the  same  time  it  is  a  great  dis- 
advantage to  me." 

He  had  nevertheless  a  keen  relish  for  social  in- 
tercourse, and  his  friends  delighted  to  see  him  in 
his  own  domestic  circle.  His  affectionate  deport- 
ment as  a  husband  and  father  mingled  beautifully 
with  his  religious  exercises,  and  threw  something 
of  sunshine  about  his  home. 

He  was  exceedingly  fond  of  music,  and  insisted 
that  it  had  great  power  in  producing  pious  and  ele- 
vated thoughts  ;  in  his  hours  of  dejection  nothing 
soothed  him  so  effectually.  In  the  evening  he  al- 
ways sang  a  hymn  before  he  parted  from  his  family 
and  friends.* 

*  It  is  generally  supposed  that  Luther  composed  the  pop-* 
ular  tune  called  Old  Hundred. 


144  MRS    LUTHER. 

Gardening  was  likewise  a  favorite  amusement 
with  him.  Writing  to  a  friend  to  procure  him  some 
seeds,  he  says,  "  While  Satan  rages,  I  will  laugh  at 
him,  and  enjoy  my  Creator  in  the  garden." 

He  and  his  student  Wolfgang,  once  busied  them- 
selves in  learning  the  turner's  trade.  "  My  rea- 
sons," said  he,"  are  that  if  it  should  so  happen,  that 
the  world  would  not  support  us,  for  the  sake  of  the 
Word  of  God,  we  might  be  able  to  earn  our  bread 
by  the  labor  of  our  hands." 

External  honors  were  of  little  value  in  Luther's 
estimation.  He  reproved  popes  and  princes  as  free- 
ly as  if  they  had  been  common  men  ;  and  his  man- 
ner toward  his  inferiors  was  always  meek  and  affa- 
ble. A  coachman,  who  had  carried  certain  persons 
to  Wittemberg,  had  a  strong  desire  to  see  "  the.  true 
pope,"  as  Luther  was  then  generally  called  by  the 
people. 

Having  asked  leave,  he  was  readily  introduced 
into  the  house,  and,  in  a  respectful  and  bashful 
manner,  took  his  station  by  the  door.  Luther,  per- 
ceiving his  shyness,  went  up  to  him,  shook  his  hand 
very  cordially,  invited  him  to  the  table,  drank  to  his 
health,  and  handed  him  his  own  glass,  which  in 
those  days  was  considered  a  peculiar  honor.  The 
man  was  delighted,  and  boasted  everywhere  that 
he  had  sat  at  the  same  table  with  Doctor  Martin 
Luther. 

Luther  deemed  it  a  duty  to  be  with  his  children 
a  good  deal.  He  used  to  say,  "  We  must  often 
prattle  with  children,  and  thus  come  to  their  assist- 


MRS    LDTHER.  145 

ance  in  whatever  is  good."  He  was  a  fond  but 
very  strict  father.  Once  when  his  son  had  com- 
mitted a  fault,  he  would  neither  see,  nor  hear  of  him, 
for  three  days  ;  yet  this  was  his  favorite  child,  whom 
he  always  called  "  his  Johnny."  —  "  I,"  said 
Luther,  "  would  fain  see  one  that  could  make 
these  two  agree  together,  to  be  joyful,  and  to  be 
afraid.  I  cannot  behave  myself  in  that  manner 
toward  God  ;  but  my  little  son,  John,  can  show  him- 
self so  toward  me  ;  for  when  I  sit  in  my  study,  and 
write  or  do  something  else,  then  my  boy  sings  me  a 
song  ;  and  when  he  will  be  too  loud,  then  I  check 
him  a  little ;  yet  nevertheless,  he  singeth  on,  but 
with  a  more  mild  and  softer  tone,  and  somewhat 
with  fear  and  reverence.  Even  so  will  God  likewise 
have  us  to  do  ;  that  we  should  always  rejoice  in 
Him,  yet  with  fear  and  reverence." 

Luther  had  no  taste  for  luxury  and  parade  ;  his 
manner  of  living  was  simple  in  the  extreme.  When 
advised  to  lay  up  something  for  his  children,  he  re- 
plied, "  That  will  I  not  do  ;  for  else  will  they  not 
rely  on  God  and  their  hands,  but  on  their  gold/' 

In  all  respects  Luther's  wishes  were  a  law  to  his 
wife  ;  and  he,  on  his  part,  seems  to  have  mingled 
no  small  degree  of  respect  with  his  affection  for  her. 
We  are  not  informed  whether  she  was  a  woman 
of  strong  intellect  ;  but  it  is  to  be  supposed  that 
she  was  sensible,  as  well  as  affectionate,  else  such 
a  man  as  Luther  would  not  have  delighted  so  much 
in  her  company.  A  learned  English  gentleman, 
who  often  dined  with  them,  spoke  German  imper- 
10 


146  MRS    LUTHER. 

fectly.  "  I  will  give  you  my  wife  for  a  schoolmis- 
tress," said  the  reformer  ;  "  she  shall  teach  you  to 
speak  Dutch  purely  and  readily  ;  for  she  is  very 
eloquent,  and  so  perfect  therein,  that  she  far  sur- 
passeth  me." 

In  a  letter  to  Stifelius,  he  says,  "  My  rib,  Kate, 
salutes  you,  and  thanks  you  for  the  favor  of  your 
kind  letter.  She  is  very  well,  through  God's  mer- 
cy ;  and  is  obedient  and  complying  with  me  in  all 
things,  and  more  agreeable,  I  thank  God,  than  I 
could  have  expected  ;  so  that  I  would  not  change 
my  poverty  for  the  wealth  of  Croesus." 

He  often  said  he  would  not  exchange  his  wife 
for  the  kingdom  of  France,  or  the  riches  of  Ven- 
ice;  and  that  for  three  good  reasons.  1.  Because 
she  was  given  him  at  the  time  when  he  implored 
the  assistance  of  God  in  finding  a  good  wife  ;  2.  Be- 
cause, though  she  was  not  faultless,  she  had 
fewer  faults  than  any  other  woman  ;  3.  Because 
she  had  been  very  faithful  in  her  affection  to  him. 

Luther's  constitution  was  enfeebled  by  frequent 
illness  and  severe  pain.  In  January,  154(5,  he  thus 
addresses  a  friend.  "  I  write  to  you  though  old, 
decrepit,  inactive,  languid,  and  now  possessed  of 
only  one  eye.  When  drawing  to  the  brink  of  the 
grave,  I  had  hopes  of  obtaining  a  reasonable  share 
of  rest :  but  I  continue  to  be  overpowered  with  wri- 
ting, preaching,  and  business,  in'the  same  manner 
as  if  I  had  not  discharged  my  part  in  these  duties 
in  the  early  period  of  life." 

Yet  six  days  after  writing  this,  he  had  energy 
enough  to  undertake  a  journey  to  Eisleben,  his  na- 


MRS    LUTHER.  147 

live  place,  in  order  to  decide  a  dispute  concerning 
the  brass  and  silver  mines  in  that  place.  He  was 
accompanied  by  his  three  sons,  and  the  Counts  of 
Mansfield  came  with  a  hundred  horsemen  to  meet 
him. 

This  journey  was  his  last.  He  died  at  Eisleben 
after  a  brief  illness.  In  his  will  he  spoke  of  his 
wife  with  great  tenderness  ;  praising  her  integrity, 
modesty  and  fidelity  —  and  testifying  that  she  had 
truly  loved  him,  and  faithfully  served  him.  To  her 
he  left  what  little  property  he  possessed.  His  body 
was  carried  to  Wittemberg  and  an  oration  pro- 
nounced by  his  dearly  beloved  friend,  Melancthon. 
The  funeral  was  conducted  with  pomp  better  suit- 
ed to  his  great  reputation  than  to  his  own  simple 
habits  while  living.  Princes,  nobles,  professors, 
students,  and  an  immense  concourse  of  people  fol- 
lowed him  to  the  grave. 

The  year  after  his  death,  when  the  troops  of 
Charles  the  Fifth  quartered  in  Wittemberg,  a  soldier 
gave  Luther's  effigy  two  stabs  with  his  dagger  ;  and 
the  Spaniards  were  very  desirous  of  having  the  mon- 
ument of  the  heretic  demolished,  and  his  bones 
burned.  The  emperor  nobly  replied,  "  Luther  is 
now  subject  to  another  Judge,  whose  jurisdiction 
it  is  not  for  me  to  usurp.  I  war  not  with  the  dead." 

The  widow  survived  nearly  seven  years,  and  died 
at  Torgau  in  1552. 

His  children,  consisting  of  three  sons  and  a 
daughter,  were  saved  from  poverty  by  the  generos- 
ity of  the  Elector  of  Saxony  and  the  Counts  of 
Mansfield. 


MRS  OBERLIN, 

,  WIFE  OF  JOHN  FREDERIC  OBERLIN. 

JOHN  FREDERIC  OBERLIN  was  the  pastor  of 
Waldbach,  an  obscure  village  in  the  northeast- 
ern part  of  France,  situated  in  the  Ban  de  la  Roche, 
or  Steintahl,  which  signifies  the  Valley  of  Stones. 
From  his  childhood  to  the  day  of  his  death  he  was 
remarkable  for  disinterestedness.  He  lived  only 
to  do  good.  He  refused  more  eligible  situations. 

o  o  •* 

for  the  sake  of  leading  an  humble  and  laborious  life 
in  the  Ban  de  la  Roche,  simply  because  the  peo- 
ple were  very  poor  and  very  ignorant,  and  he  could 
nowhere  else  be  so  useful. 

Here  he  made  himself  the  companion  and  friend 
of  the  peasantry  :  he  not  only  taught  them  the  way 
of  salvation,  but  instructed  their  children  ;  intro- 
duced the  sciences,  and  mechanical  arts  among 
them  ;  projected  roads  over  places  hitherto  deemed 
impassable ;  and  himself  sallied  forth  with  a  pick- 
axe on  his  shoulder,  to  assist  in  making  them. 
Under  his  instruction  the  people  became  at  once 
pious  and  enlightened.  Tliov  all  called  him  father, 
and  he  regarded  them  as  his  family.  He  lived 
among  them  in  such  a  state  of  patriarchal  purity. 


MRS    ODER  LIN.  149 

simplicity,  and  affection,  that  we  almost  wonder 
angels  did  not  visit  him,  as  they  did  Abraham  of 
old.  Little  will  here  be  said  of  the  wonderful  ex- 
ertions, and  animated  piety  of  this  excellent  man, 
because  his  memoirs  have  lately  been  republished 
by  the  Rev.  Henry  Ware,  Jr.  It  is  a  book  of  blessed 
influence ;  making  one  feel  as  if  a  spirit  like  a 
dove  had  folded  its  soft  wings  over  the  heart. 

The  circumstances  of  his  wedded  life  are  pecu- 
liarly appropriate  to  this  volume.  Before  he  settled 
in  the  Ban  de  la  Roche  his  mother  was  very  anx- 
ious that  he  should  find  a  companion,  to  cheer  his 
loneliness  and  relieve  him  from  domestic  cares. 
His  own  feelings  were  not  particularly  interested 
on  the  subject  ;  but  in  order  to  please  his  mother, 
he  was  willing  to  marry  the  daughter  of  a  rich 
widow  whom  she  recommended. 

But  in  all  the  concerns  of  life  it  was  his  practice 
to  wait  for  some  intimation  from  Divine  Provi- 
dence. In  this  instance,  he  earnestly  prayed  that 
God  would  direct  his  judgment.  If  the  mother  of 
the  young  lady  first  made  the  proposition  to  him,* 
he  resolved  to  consider  it  a  sign  that  the  marriage 
ought  to  take  place.  He  visited  the  house,  and 
received  a  courteous  reception ;  but  the  conversa- 
tion was  entirely  confined  to  topics  of  ordinary  in- 
terest. He  considered  this  as  an  indication  of 
Providence,  and  went  no  more. 

His  parents  afterward  proposed  another  connex- 

*  We  must  recollect  that  it  is  common  in  France  for 
parents  to  manage  matrimonial  contracts. 


150  MRS    O  BERLIN. 

ion,  which  they  thought  would  be  conducive  to  his 
happiness.  He  had  esteemed  the  young  lady  for  a 
long  time  and  had  a  great  friendship  for  her  father  ; 
but  his  affections  appear  to  have  been  in  a  very  pas- 
sive state.  The  parents  drew  up  a  marriage  contract, 
to  which  the  younger  parties  assented.  But  a  more 
wealthy  suitor  was  preferred,  and  Oberlin  relin- 
quished his  claims.  In  a  few  weeks  the  young 
lady's  father  wrote  him  a  letter,  asking  to  have  the 
connexion  renewed.  Oberlin  replied  that  his 
friendship  was  unabated,  but  he  considered  the  cir- 
cumstances which  had  occurred,  a  direct  intima- 
tion from  Providence  that  the  marriage  would  not 
be  for  the  good,  either  of  himself,  or  the  lady. 

A  warm  friendship   continued  to  exist  between 
the  families,  but  the  union  was  no  more  thought  of. 

The  younger  sister  of  Oberlin  accompanied  him 
to  Waldbach,  and  took  charge  of  his  domestic  con- 
cerns. When  he  had  resided  there  about  a  year, 
a  relative  from  Strasbourg,  (their  native  place) 
named  Madeleine  Salome  Witter,  came  to  visit  So- 
phia Oberlin.  She  was  a  woman  of  religious  prin- 
ciple, and  her  mind  was  highly  cultivated ;  but 
her  habits  were  at  that  time  more  expensive,  and 
she  cared  more  about  the  world,  than  did  her  meek 
and  simple  cousin  Frederic  ;  nevertheless  he  be- 
came convinced  that  she  was  made  for  him.  Two 
days  before  her  intended  departure,  a  voice  seemed 
to  whisper  distinctly,  "  Take  her  for  thy  partner  !" 
"  It  is  impossible,"  thought  he  ;  "our  dispositions 
do  not  agree."  Still  the  secret  voice  whispered, 


MRS    OBERLIN.  151 

"  Take  her  for  thy  partner  !"  He  slept  little  that 
night ;  and  in  his  morning  prayer,  he  earnestly  en- 
treated God  to  give  him  a  sign  whether  this  event 
was  in  accordance  with  the  Divine  will ;  solemnly 
declaring  that  if  Madeleine  acceded  to  the  propo- 
sition with  great  readiness,  he  should  consider  the 
voice  he  had  heard  as  a  leading  of  Providence. 

He  found  his  cousin  in  the  garden,  and  immedi- 
ately began  the  conversation  by  saying,  "  You  are 
about  to  leave  us,  my  dear  friend.  I  have  received 
an  intimation  that  you  are  destined  to  be  the  part- 
ner of  my  life.  Before  you  go,  will  you  give  me 
your  candid  opinion  whether  you  can  resolve  upon 
this  step  ?" 

With  blushing  frankness,  Madeleine  placed  her 
hand  within  his  ;  and  then  he  knew  that  she  would 
be  his  wife. 

They  were  married  on  the  sixth  of  July,  1768. 
Miss  Witter  had  always  resolved  not  to  marry  a 
clergyman ;  but  she  was  devotedly  attached  to  her 
excellent  husband,  and  cordially  assisted  in  all  his 
plans.  No  dissatisfaction  at  her  humble  lot,  no 
complaints  of  the  arduous  duties  belonging  to  their 
peculiar  situation,  marred  their  mutual  happiness. 
They  were  far  removed  from  the  vain  excitements, 
and  tinsel  splendor  of  the  world  ;  they  were  sur- 
rounded by  the  rude,  illiterate  peasantry  ;  and  every 
step  in  improvement  was  contested  by  ignorance 
and  prejudice  ;  but  they  were  near  each  other,  and 
both  were  near  to  God. 

The  following  prayer,  written  soon  after   their 


152  MRS    OBERLIN. 

union,  shows  what  spirit  pervaded  their  peaceful 
dwelling. 

PRAYER  OF  OBERLIN  AND  HIS  WIFE,  FOR   THE  BLESS- 
ING AND  GRACE  OF  GOD. 

"  Holy  Spirit !  descend  into  our  hearts  ;  assist 
us  to  pray  with  fervor  from  our  inmost  souls.  Per- 
mit thy  children,  Oh,  gracious  Father,  to  present 
themselves  before  thee,  in  order  to  ask  of  thee  what 
is  necessary  for  them .  May  we  love  each  other 
only  in  thee,  and  in  our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ,  as 
being  members  of  his  body.  Enable  us  at  all 
times,  to  look  solely  to  thee,  to  walk  before  thee, 
and  to  be  united  together  in  thee  ;  that  thus  we 
may  grow  daily,  in  the  spiritual  life. 

"  Grant  that  we  may  be  faithful  in  the  exercise 
of  our  duties,  that  we  may  stimulate  each  other 
therein,  warning  each  other  of  our  faults,  and  seek- 
ing together  for  pardon  in  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ. 
When  we  pray  together,  (and  may  we  pray  much 
and  frequently)  be  thou,  O  Lord  Jesus,  with  us  ; 
kindle  our  fervor,  O  Heavenly  Father,  and  grant 
us,  for  the  sake  of  Jesus  Christ,  whatever  thy  Holy 
Spirit  shall  teach  us  to  ask. 

"  Seeing  that  in  this  life,  thou  hast  placed  the 
members  of  our  household  under  our  authority,  give 
us  wisdom  and  strength  to  guide  them  in  a  manner 
conformable  to  thy  will.  May  we  always  set  them 
a  good  example,  following  that  of  Abraham,  who 
commanded  his  children  and  his  household  after 
him,  to  keep  the  way  of  the  Lord,  in  doing  what 
is  right.  If  thou  givest  us  children,  and  preserv- 


MRSOBERLIN.  153 

est  them  to  us,  O  grant  us  grace  to  bring  them  up 
to  thy  service,  to  teach  them  early  to  know,  to  fear, 
and  to  love  thee,  and  to  pray  to  that  God  who  has 
made  a  covenant  with  them,  that,  conformably  to 
the  engagement  which  will  be  undertaken  for  them 
at  their  baptism,  they  may  remain  faithful  from  the 
cradle  to  the  grave.  O  Heavenly  Father,  may  we 
inculcate  thy  word,  according  to  thy  will,  all  our 
lives,  with  gentleness,  love  and  patience,  both  at 
their  rising  up  and  lying  down,  at  home  and  abroad, 
and  under  all  circumstances  ;  and  do  thou  render 
it  meet  for  the  children  to  whom  thou  hast  given 
life  only  as  a  means  of  coming  to  thee. 

•"  And  when  we  go  together  to  the  Holy  Supper, 
O  ever  give  us  renewed  grace,  renewed  strength, 
and  renewed  courage,  for  continuing  to  walk  in 
the  path  to  heaven  ;  and,  as  we  can  only  approach 
thy  table  four  times  in  the  year,  grant  that  in  faith 
we  may  much  more  frequently  be  there,  yes,  every 
day  and  every  hour  ;  that  we  may  always  keep 
death  in  view,  and  always  be  prepared  for  it ;  and 
if  we  may  be  permitted  to  solicit  it  of  thee,  O 
grant  that  we  may  not  long  be  separated  from  each 
other,  but  that  the  death  of  the  one  may  be  speedi- 
ly, and  very  speedily,  followed  by  that  of  the  other. 

"  Hear,  O  gracious  Father,  in  the  name  of  Jesus 
Christ,  thy  well-beloved  son.  And,  O  merciful  Re- 
vdeemer,  may  we  both  love  thee  with  ardent  devo- 
tion, always  walking  and  holding  communion  with 
thee,  not  placing  our  confidence  in  our  own  right- 
eousness and  in  our  own  works,  but  only  in  thy 


154  MRS   OBERI.IN  . 

blood  and  in  thy  merits.  Be  with  us  ;  preserve  us 
faithful ;  and  grant,  Lord  Jesus,  that  we  may  soon 
see  thee.  Holy  Spirit,  dwell  always  in  our  hearts  : 
teach  us  to  lift  our  thoughts  continually  to  our  gra- 
cious Father  ;  impart  to  us  thy  strength,  or  thy  con- 
solation, as  our  wants  may  be.  And  to  thee,  to 
the  Father,  and  to  the  Son,  be  praise,  honor,  and 
glory,  for  ever  and  ever.  Amen." 

For  sixteen  years  Mrs  Oberlin  was  a  beloved 
friend  and  useful  assistant  to  her  husband.  In  their 
tastes  and  pursuits,  in  their  opinions  and  feelings, 
they  became  entirely  one.  She  managed  his  house- 
hold discretely,  educated  their  children  judiciously, 
and  entered  into  all  his  benevolent  plans  with  ear- 
nestness and  prudence. 

She  died  suddenly,  in  January,  1784,  a  few  weeks 
after  the  birth  of  her  last  child.  Her  death  was 
deeply  felt  in  the  Ban  de  la  Roche,  for  her  assist- 
ance and  sympathy  had  always  been  freely  offered 
to  the  poor  and  the  afflicted. 

The  bereaved  husband  was  at  first  almost  stun- 
ned by  the  blow.  But  God  supported  him  in  this 
hour  of  trial.  No  duties  were  neglected,  no  murmur 
escaped  his  lips.  In  a  document  written  about  that 
time,  he  says,  "  I  have  all  my  life  had  a  desire,  oc- 
casionally a  very  strong  one,  to  die,  owing  in  some 
degree  to  my  moral  infirmities  and  my  frequent 
derelictions.  My  affection  for  my  wife  and  child- 
ren, and  my  attachment  to  my  parish,  have  some- 
times checked  this  desire,  though  for  short  inter- 
vals only." 


MRS  OBERLIN.  155 

When  his  beloved  partner  had  gone  to  another 
world,  he  more  earnestly  wished  to  depart  and  be 
with  her  ;  but  he  prayed  for  resignation  to  the  will 
of  Him,  who  alone  knew  what  was  best ;  and  re- 
signation and  peace  were  given  him.  He  might 
be  said  never  to  have  been  separated  from  his  wife  ; 
for  he  seemed  to  live  in  her  memory,  and  devoted 
several  hours  every  day  to  communion  with  her. 

His  pathetic  prayer  that  the  death  of  one  might 
be  very  speedily  followed  by  that  of  the  other,  was 
not  granted.  He  survived  Madeleine  fortytwo 
years  ;  and  continued  to  the  last  a  blessing  to  his 
parishioners,  and  to  all  who  came  within  his  in- 
fluence. 

The  wonderful  improvements  he  had  made  in  the 
Steintahl,  and  the  religious  and  enlightened  state 
of  his  little  community,  excited  universal  interest 
and  admiration.  The  goodness  of  Oberlin  became 
fame  ;  and  in  the  decline  of  life  the  excellent  old 
man  was  visited  by  foreigners  from  various  parts  of 
the  world,  who  came  to  pay  their  tribute  of  respect 
to  the  venerable  pastor  of  the  Ban  de  la  Roche. 

lie  died  in  June,  1826,  at  the  age  of  86.  At  the 
moment  of  his  departure  the  tolling  of  a  bell  an- 
nounced to  his  anxious  people  that  their  "  Father 
Oberlin,"  as  they  affectionately  called  him,  had 
"  gone  hence,  to  be  with  them  no  more."  Their  sor- 
row was  deep  and  universal.  Notwithstanding  the 
incessant  rain  that  poured  down  for  several  days 
previous  to  his  funeral,  all  the  inhabitants,  young 
and  old,  from  the  remotest  corners  of  the  Ban  de 
la  Roche,  assembled  to  pay  their  last  trib"fe  of  re- 


156  MRS    OBERLIN. 

spect  to  their  instructor,  benefactor  and  friend. 
His  bible  and  clerical  robes  were  laid  upon  his  cof- 
fin, and  the  mayor  affixed  to  the  funeral-pall  the 
decoration  of  the  Legion  of  Honor.  Twelve  girls, 
standing  around  the  hearse,  sang  a  hyrnn  in  chorus. 
The  coffin  was  borne  by  the  magistrates,  and  the 
children  of  the  different  schools  established  by 
Oberlin  chanted,  at  intervals,  sacred  hymns  pre- 
pared for  the  occasion.  The  procession  was  more 
than  two  miles  in  length.  In  front  walked  the  old- 
est inhabitant  of  the  Steintahl,  carrying  a  cross  to 
be  placed  upon  his  grave,  on  which  was  engraved 
in  open  letters,  the  simple  and  affecting  epitaph, 
Papa  Oberlin. 

Many  Roman  Catholic  priests,  and  poor  Catholic 
women  were  present,  and  were  deeply  affected. 
For  though  Oberlin  was  a  Lutheran,  he  was  very 
tolerant  of  the  opinions  of  others,  and  wished  all 
to  enjoy  the  utmost  freedom  in  their  faith.  He  car- 
ried this  kind  feeling  so  far,  that  he  administered 
the  sacrament  to  Christians  of  all  sects,  and  had 
three  different  kinds  of  sacramental  bread  prepared, 
that  the  consciences  of  neither  Catholic,  Lutheran, 
or  Calvinist,  might  be  offended. 

Oberlin  was  the  intimate  friend  of  Lavater,  who 
was  even  more  beloved  as  a  Christian  minister  than 
celebrated  as  a  physiognomist. 

Oberlin  had  nine  children  ;  seven  of  whom  were 
living  when  his  wife  died;  and  five  survived  him. 
His  daughters  all  married  clergymen,  and  every 
union  was  blessed  with  the  good  old  patriarch's  cor- 
dial approbation. 


MRS    GROTIUS, 

WIFE   OF    HUGO   GROTIUS. 

HUGO  GROTIUS,  one  of  the  most  renowned  scho- 
lars of  his  age,  was  very  early  in  life  distinguished 
for  his  great  attainments.  He  was  born  at  Delft, 
in  1583.  At  eight  years  of  age  he  composed  Latin 
elegiac  verses ;  and  at  fourteen,  he  maintained 
public  theses  in  mathematics,  law,  and  philosophy. 
In  1598  he  accompanied  the  Ambassador  of  the 
States  to  Paris,  where  he  was  received  with  great 
distinction  by  Henry  the  Fourth,  who  gave  him  his 
picture  and  a  gold  chain.  With  the  pardonable 
vanity  of  youth,  Grotius  had  his  own  likeness  en- 
graved with  this  chain  about  his  neck.  In  1599, 
when  he  was  not  yet  seventeen  years  old,  this  ex- 
traordinary man  pleaded  his  first  cause  at  the  bar, 
in  a  manner  that  gave  him  prodigious  reputation  ; 
and  the  successive  publication  of  several  learned 
works  secured  the  universal  admiration  of  men  of 
learning. 

In  1608,  he  married  Mary  Reigersberg,  whose 
father  had  been  burgomaster  of  Veer.  The  wife 
was  worthy  of  the  husband,  and  her  value  was  duly 
appreciated.  Through  many  changes  of  fortune, 


158  MRS    GROTIUS. 

they  lived  together  in  the  utmost  harmony  and  con- 
fidence. 

Grotius  was  an  Arminian,  and  a  republican  ; 
and  as  a  public  man,  it  was  scarcely  possible  for 
him  to  avoid  being  involved  it  the  furious  religious 

o  o 

and  political  disputes  of  the  day. 

lie  was  arrested  with  some  others,  upon  the 
charge  of  encouraging  the  city  of  Utrecht  to  rebel- 
lion, and  confined  in  the  Castle  of  the  Hague. 
Previous  to  his  trial,  he  was  dangerously  ill,  during 
which  time  his  anxious  wife  could  not  obtain  access 
to  him.  After  very  rigorous  and  unfair  proceed- 
ings, his  estates  were  confiscated,  and  he  was  sen- 
tenced to  imprisonment  for  life.  The  place  of  his 
confinement  was  the  fortressofLouvestein,  in  South 
Holland.  His  wife  earnestly  entreated  to  be  his 
fellow  prisoner,  and  her  petition  was  granted.  In 
one  of  his  Latin  poems  he  speaks  of  her  with  deep 
feeling,  and  compares  her  presence  to  a  sun-beam 
amid  the  gloom  of  his  prison.  The  States  offered 
to  do  something  for  his  support ;  but,  with  becom- 
ing pride,  she  answered  that  she  could  maintain 
him  out  of  her  own  fortune.  She  indulged  in  no 
useless  regrets,  but  employed  all  her  energies  to 
make  him  happy.  Literature  added  its  powerful 
charm  to  these  domestic  consolations  ;  and  he,  who 
has  a  good  wife,  and  is  surrounded  by  good  books, 
may  defy  the  world.  Accordingly,  we  find  Grotius 
pursuing  his  studies  with  cheerful  contentment,  in 
the  fortress  where  he  was  condemned  to  remain 
d urine  life.  But  his  faithful  wife  was  resolved  to 


MRS    GROTIUS.  159 

procure  his  freedom.  Those,  who  trusted  her  with 
him,  must  have  had  small  knowledge  of  the  ingenu- 
ity and  activity  of  woman's  affection.  Her  mind 
never  for  a  moment  lost  sight  of  this  favorite  pro- 
ject, and  every  circumstance  that  might  favor  it 
was  watched  with  intense  interest. 

Grotius  had  been  permitted  to  borrow  books  of 
his  friends  in  a  neighboring  town,  and  when  they 
had  been  perused,  thsy  were  sent  back  in  a  chest, 
which  conveyed  his  clothes  to  the  washerwoman. 
At  first,  his  guards  had  beeri  very  particular  to  search 
the  chest ;  but  never  finding  anything  to  excite 
suspicion,  they  grew  careless.  Upon  this  negli- 
gence, Mrs  Grotius  founded  hopes  of  having 
her  husband  conveyed  away  in  the  chest.  Holes 
were  bored  in  it  to  admit  the  air,  and  she  persuaded 
him  to  try  how  long  he  could  remain  in  such  a 
cramped  and  confined  situation.  The  commandant 
of  the  fortress  was  absent,  when  she  took  occasion 
to  inform  his  wife  that  she  wished  to  send  away  a 
large  load  of  books,  because  the  prisoner  was  de- 
stroying his  health  by  too  much  study. 

At  the  appointed  time,  Grotius  entered  the  chest, 
and  was  with  difficulty  carried  down  a  ladder  by 
two  soldiers.  Finding  it  very  heavy,  one  of  them 
said,  jestingly,  "  There  must  be  an  Arminian  in 
it."  She  answered  very  cooly  that  there  were  in- 
deed some  Arminian  books  in  it.  The  soldier 
thought  proper  to  inform  the  commandant's  wife 
of  the  extraordinary  weight  of  the  chest;  but  she 
replied  that  it  was  filled  with  a  load  of  books,  which 


100  MRS    GROTIUS. 

MrsGrotius  had  asked  her  permission  to  send  away, 
on  account  of  the  health  of  her  husband. 

A  maid,  who  was  in  the  secret,  accompanied  the 
chest  to  the  house  of  one  of  her  master's  friends. 
Grotius  came  out  uninjured  ;  and  dressed  like  a 
mason,  with  trowel  in  hand,  he  proceeded  through 
the  market-place  to  a  boat,  which  conveyed  him  to 
Brabant,  whence  he  took  a  carriage  to  Antwerp. 
This  fortunate  escape  was  effected  March  22d, 
1621.  His  courageous  partner  managed  to  keep 
up  a  belief  that  he  was  very  ill  in  his  bed,  until  she 
was  convinced  that  he  was  entirely  beyond  the 
power  of  his  enemies. 

When  she  acknowledged  what  she  had  done,  the 
commandant  was  in  a  furious  passion.  He  detain- 
ed her  in  close  custody,  and  treated  her  very  rigor- 
ously, until  a  petition,  which  she  addressed  to  the 
States-general,  procured  her  liberation.  Some  das- 
tardly spirits  voted  for  her  perpetual  imprisonment ; 
but  the  better  feelings  of  human  nature  prevailed, 
and  the  wife  was  universally  applauded  for  her  in- 
genuity, fortitude,  and  constant  affection. 

Grotius  found  an  asylum  in  France,  where  he 
was  reunited  to  his  family.  A  residence  in  Paris 
is  expensive  ;  and  for  some  time  he  struggled  with 
pecuniary  embarrassment.  The  kifi;j  of  France  at 
last  settled  a  pension  upon  him.  lie  continued  to 
write,  and  his  glory  spread  throughout  Europe. 

Cardinal  Richelieu  wished  to  engage  him  wholly 
in  the  interests  of  France  ;  and  not  being  able  to 


MRS  GROTIUS.  161 

•obtain  an  abject  compliance   with  all  his  schemes, 
he  made  him  feel  the  full  bitterness  of  dependence. 

Thus  situated,  he  was  extremely  anxious  to  re- 
turn to  his  native  country ;  and  in  1627  his  wife 
went  into  Holland  to  consult  with  his  friends  on 
the  expediency  of  such  a  step. 

He  was  unable  to  obtain  any  public  permission 
to  return  ;  but  relying  on  a  recent  change  in  the 
government,  he,  by  his  wife's  advice,  boldly  appear- 
ed at  Rotterdam.  His  enemies  were  still  on  the 
alert;  they  could  not  forgive  the  man  who  refused 
to  apologize,  and  whose  able  vindication  of  himself 
had  thrown  disgrace  upon  them.  Many  private  per- 
sons interested  themselves  for  him  ;  but  the  magis- 
trates offered  rewards  to  whoever  would  apprehend 
him.  Such  was  the  treatment  this  illustrious  scho- 
lar met  from  a  country,  which  owes  one  of  its  proud- 
est distinctions  to  his  fame  ! 

He  left  Holland,  and  resided  at  Hamburgh  two 
years  ;  at  which  place  he  was  induced  to  enter  the 
serviceof  Christina,  queen  of  Sweden  ;  whoappoint- 
ed  him  her  ambassador  to  the  court  of  France. 
After  a  residence  often  years,  during  which  he  con- 
tinued to  increase  his  reputation  as  an  author, 
he  grew  tired  of  a  situation,  which  circumstances 
rendered  difficult  and  embarrassing.  At  his  re- 
quest, he  was  recalled.  He  visited  Holland,  on  his 
way  to  Sweden,  and  at  last  met  with  distinguished 
honor  from  his  ungrateful  country.  After  deliver- 
ing his  papers  to  Christina,  he  prepared  to  return 
to  Lubeck.  He  was  driven  back  by  a  storm  ;  and 
11 


162  MRS    GROTIUS. 

being  impatient,  set  out  in  an  open  wagon,  exposed 
to  wind  and  rain.  This  imprudence  occasioned 
his  death.  He  was  compelled  to  stop  at  Rostock, 
where  he  died  suddenly,  August  28,  1645,  in  the 
sixtythird  year  of  his  age.  His  beloved  wife,  and 
four  out  of  six  of  his  children,  survived  him. 


MRS    HOWARD, 

WIFE    OF    JOHN    HOWARD. 

THIS  great  philanthropist  was  born  in  Clapton,  a 
large  village  near  London,  in  1727.  He  inherited 
a  handsome  fortune  from  his  father,  who  was  a 
wealthy  upholsterer. 

The  most  distinguishing  trait  of  his  early  char- 
acter was  overflowing  kindness ;  and  these  benev- 
olent feelings,  guided  by  a  most  correct  judgment, 
remained  with  him  through  life,  and  made  him  a 
blessing  to  the  world. 

It  was  his  favorite  maxim  that  "  Our  superfluities 
should  be  given  up  for  the  convenience  of  others ; 
our  conveniences  should  give  place  to  the  necessi- 
ties of  others  ;  and  even  our  necessities  should  give 
way  to  the  extremities  of  the  poor." 

There  was  a  perfect  harmony  between  his  theory 
and  his  actions.  His  ready  and  earnest  benevo- 
lence made  him  an  object  of  idolatry  among  the 
poor  of  his  neighborhood  ;  and  when  lie  was 
abroad  on  his  great  mission  of  humanity,  ho  never 
forgot  to  give  such  orders  as  were  necessary  to  sup- 
ply their  necessities. 


164  MRS    HOWARD. 

In  ten  years  he  travelled  more  than  fortytvvo 
thousand  miles  for  the  sole  purpose  of  relieving 
distress.  He  visited  nearly  all  the  prisons  and 
hospitals  of  Europe  ;  endured  toil  and,,  privation  ; 
risked  infection  ;  boldly  spoke  offensive  truths  to 
princes,  nobles,  and  men  in  power ;  and  liberally 
expended  his  income,  where  money  could  be  pro- 
ductive of  good.  His  generosity  was  particularly 
exercised  toward  worthy  people  imprisoned  for 
small  debts.  On  such  occasions,  he  would  often 
return  to  his  family  in  great  joy,  saying,  "  I  have 
made  a  poor  woman  happy;  I  have  sent  her  hus- 
band home  to  her  and  her  children." 

This  good  man  was  twice  married.  His  first 
connexion  seems  to  have  been  formed  entirely  from 
motives  of  gratitude,  to  a  highly  respectable  widow, 
who  had  been  exceedingly  kind  to  him  during  a 
severe  illness.  He  was  then  about  twentyfive  years 
old,  and  his  bride  had  numbered  rather  more  than 
twice  as  many  years.  She  was  a  sincere,  affection- 
ate, and  sensible  woman,  and  her  husband  respect- 
ed and  esteemed  her.  In  two  or  three  years  the 
connexion  was  dissolved  by  her  death. 

To  her  who  was  truly  his  wife,  he  was  united  in 
1758,  when  he  was  about  thirty  years  old.  She 
was  the  daughter  of  Edward  Leeds,  Esq.  of  Crox- 
ton.  Early  accustomed  to  the  indulgences  of 
wealth,  she  formed  no  frivolous  tastes,  no  expensive 
habits.  Amiable,  affectionate,  and  benevolent,  she 
found  her  greatest  delight  in  doing  good.  They 
were  both  pious  ;  and  she  so  cordially  assisted  in 


MRS    HOWARD.  165 

all  his  plans,  and  seconded  all  his  wishes,  that  she 
might  have  appropriately  said  to  her  husband,  in 
the  beautiful  language  of  Milton's  Eve,  "  God  is 
thy  law,  thou  mine." 

Their  residence  at  Cardington  was  fitted  up  in 
the  neatest  and  most  unostentatious  manner.  All 
the  linen  necessary  to  furnish  the  house  was  spun 
by  the  cottagers  in  the  neighborhood,  under  the 
immediate  superintendence  of  Mrs  Howard  her- 
self; and  during  his  life  he  always  made  it  an  ob- 
ject to  use  such  articles  as  could  be  manufactured 
by  his  poor  neighbors.  When  absent  for  any  time, 
he  always  left  particular  .directions  for  the  comfort 
of  his  aged  nurse ;  and  when  he  was  at  home,  he 
would  himself  see  that  coals  were  sent  to  her  cot- 
tage, to  warm  her  bed ,  every  night  when  the  weather 
was  cold  enough  to  require  it.  In  all  these  things, 
Mrs  Howard  warmly  sympathized.  She  attended 
upon  the  sick,  fed  the  hungry,  and  clothed  the  des- 
titute. Soon  after  her  marriage,  she  sold  her 
jewels,  and  put  the  money  into  her  husband's  char- 
ity purse.  On  settling  his  accounts  one  year,  Mr 
Howard  found  an  unexpected  balance  in  his  favor: 
and  he  asked  his  wife  if  she  would  like  to  take  a 
trip  to  London.  "  What  a  comfortable  cottage  for 
a  poor  person  might  be  built  with  the  money  we 
should  expend  !"  was  her  benevolent  reply.  The 
sum  was  appropriated  as  she  suggested  ;  and  this 
excellent  couple  enjoyed  the  purest  satisfaction  of 
the  human  heart  —  that  of  preferring  the  good  of 
others  to  our  own. 


166  MRS    HOWARD. 

The  same  sympathy  prevailed  in  their  religious 
impressions. 

Wishing  to  observe  the  effect  on  her  mind,  Mr 
Howard  once  asked  her  to  accompany  him  to  some 
place  of  fashionable  resort  in  London.  In  the 
midst  of  the  brilliant  crowd,  she  seemed  serious  and 
contemplative.  "  Tell  me,  dear  Harriet,  what  you 
are  thinking  about,"  said  he.  "  I  am  thinking  of 
Mr 's  sermon  last  Sunday,"  she  replied. 

A  degree  of  simple  and  tasteful  elegance  per- 
vaded their  dwelling,  and  gave  indication  of  that 
true  refinement,  which  usually  accompanies  purity 
of  heart. 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  rural  beauty  in  the 
arrangement  of  the  grounds.  In  one  place,  the 
broad  gravel  walk  was  thickly  shaded  by  majestic 
firs,  which  Mr  Howard  brought  home  when  he 
returned  from  his  first  travels  on  the  continent. 
One  tree,  planted  by  his  beloved  wife,  was  the  ob- 
ject of  his  peculiar  attachment.  Many  a  happy 
hour  was  spent  in  this  quiet  grove,  in  devising 
and  talking  over  the  extensive  schemes  of  benevo- 
lence, which  he  afterward  lived  to  execute. 

A  rustic  hermitage,  called  the  Root  House,  on 
account  of  its  being  made  entirely  of  the  roots  and 
trunks  of  trees,  was  a  favorite  place  of  resort. 

A  lamp  made  out  of  a  root  was  in  the  centre,  and 
masses  of  peat  served  for  chairs.  A  book  shelf 
was  fitted  into  a  recess  in  the  wall,  and  the  Gothic 
portico  and  windows  admitted  light  enough  for  the 
student.  This  little  library  betrayed  the  tastes  and 


MRS   HOWARD.  167 

feelings  of  the  owner  ;  for  here  might  be  seen  the 
works  of  Hervey,  Flavel,  Baxter,  Milton,  Thomson, 
Young,  and  Watts. 

Mr  Howard,  though  mild  and  affectionate,  was  a 
great  friend  to  subordination  in  families.  He 
thought  implicit  obedience  was  the  duty  of  wives,  as 
well  as  children  ;  and  he  would  hardly  have  assent- 
ed to  the  omission  which  the  gallantry  of  modern 
clergymen  has  induced  them  to  make  in  the  mar- 
riage service;  (an  omission  which,  after  all, 
"  breaks  the  word  of  promise  to  the  ear,  but  keeps 
it  to  the  sense"  —  for  how  can  a  woman  love  and 
honor  her  husband  without  obeying  him?  And 
then  the  Bible  is  so  explicit,  and  the  laws  so  un- 
gallant,  that  methinksthe  word  may  as  well  remain 
in  a  vow  where  the  meaning  cannot,  and  ought  not 
to  be  expunged.) 

Before  their  union,  Mr  Howard  wished  his  lady 
to  make  a  promise  that  if  a  discussion  arose  upon 
any  subject,  it  should  always  be  left  to  his  decision. 
She  cheerfully  made  the  promise  ;  and  what  is  more 
to  the  purpose,  she  always  kept  it. 

More  complete  happiness  than  fell  to  the  lot  of 
this  worthy  pair  can  hardly  be  imagined  to  exist 
on  earth  —  perfect  sympathy  on  all  subjects,  with 
the  power  and  the  will  to  do  good  continually.  For 
about  seven  years  Mr  Howard  enjoyed  the  company 
of  his  beloved  partner,  and  valuable  assistant ;  and 
then  death  came  to  interrupt  for  a  time,  the  union 
which  was  to  be  renewed  in  heaven.  Mrs  Howard 
died  in  March,  1765,  soon  after  the  birth  of  their 


168  MRS    HOWARD. 

only  child.  Her  husband  felt  his  loss  acutely,  but 
he  bore  it  like  a  Christian.  He  never  alluded  to 
her  without  expressions  of  affection  and  respect 
amounting  to  veneration.  He  caused  a  tablet  to 
be  erected  to  her  memory  in  Cardington  church, 
bearing  the  following  beautiful  inscription  : 

In  hope  of  a  resurrection- to  eternal  life, 
Through  the  mercy  of  God  by  Jesus  Christ, 
Rests  the  mortal  part  of 
HENRIETTA  HOWARD, 
Daughter  of  Edward  Leeds,  Esq. 
Of  Croxton  in  Cambridgeshire  ; 
"Who  died  the  31st  of  March,  1765,  aged  39. 
She  opened  her  mouth  with  wisdom, 
JLnd  in  her  tongue  was  the  law  of  kindness. 

Proverbs  31.  26. 

The  education  of  his  little  son  was  the  greatest 
consolation  of  the  lonely  widower.  Riding,  walk- 
ing, or  gardening,  the  child  was  with  him  almost  as 
constantly  as  his  shadow.  At  church,  the  father 
was  regularly  seen  with  his  arms  round  the  boy's 
waist,  while  the  little  hands  rested  on  his  shoulder, 
or  fondled  his  face,  in  infant  familiarity. 

Several  years  after  the  death  of  his  wife,  Mr 
Howard  pointed  to  a  tree  among  the  grove  of  firs, 
and  said  to  his  son,  with  earnest  solemnity,  "  Jack, 
I  charge  you,  as  you  value  my  blessing,  never  al- 
low that  tree  to  be  removed.  It  was  planted  by 
your  mother." 

Feeling  that  his  own  care,  however  assiduous, 
could  not  supply  the  place  of  maternal  solicitude, 
Mr  Howard  had  engaged  a  pious  and  judicious 


MRS    HOWARD.  169 

woman  to  take  charge  of  his  child  ;  and  after  hav- 
ing hud  sufficient  experience  of  her  fidelity  and 
discretion, ,  he  resolved  to  go  abroad  to  fulfil  the 
benevolent  intentions  he  had  so  long  indulged. 
He  had  twice  before  visited  the  continent,  and  been 
a  close  observer  of  whatever  affected  the  welfare 
of  his  fellow  creatures.  In  1769,  he  left  England 
for  the  purpose  of  devoting  his  time  and  talents  en- 
tirely to  the  cause  of  humanity ;  and  the  remain- 
der of  his  life  was  principally  spent  in  dun- 
geons, lazarettos  and  other  abodes  of  wretchedness. 
The  exertions  he  made,  and  the  amount  of  good 
he  effected,  are  almost  incredible.  He  would  not 
indulge  himself  in  visiting  the  beautiful  and  mag- 
nificent works  of  art,  because  he  could  not  spare 
the  time  from  what  he  deemed  a  more  important 
object ;  his  dress,  though  gentlemanly,  was  exceed- 
ingly plain  ;  he  drank  no  wine,  or  spirituous  liquors 
of  any  kind ;  and  for  a  great  many  years  his  diet 
consisted  entirely  of  such  simple  food  as  milk,  bread, 
fruit,  &c. 

The  miniature  of  his  beloved  wife  was  the  con- 
stant companion  of  his  travels.  His  heart  was 
ever  with  the  child  she  had  left  to  his  care.  His 
paternal  exhortations  were  earnest  and  frequent : 
and  he  often  returned  to  England  to  observe  his 
progress,  and  make  arrangements  for  his  educa- 
tion. Yet  this  son  was  doomed  to  be  to  him  a 
child  of  sorrow.  A  wicked,  but  hypocritical  ser- 
vant initiated  him  into  vice.  Dissipation  ruined 
his  health,  and  finally  made  him  insane.  The 
news  of  his  irretrievable  madness  almost  broke  his 


170  MRS    HOWARD. 

father's  heart  ;  but  he  found  consolation  in  the 
God  whom  he  had  always  served.  Writing  to  his 
faithful  steward,  he  says,  "  1  fear  he  gives  you,  as 
well  as  others,  a  great  deal  of  trouble.  A  great 
loss  to  children  is  their  mother  ;  for  they  check 
and  form  the  mind,  curbing  the  corrupt  passions  of 
pride  and  self  will,  which  are  seen  very  early  in 
children.  I  must  leave  it  to  Him,  with  whom  are 
all  hearts,  and  sigh  in  secret ;  trusting  that  the 
blessing  of  such  an  excellent  mother  is  laid  up 
for  him." 

In  this  very  letter,  while  this  dreadful  calamity 
was  so  recent,  the  heart-stricken  parent  does  not 
forget  to  order  three  pounds  sterling  to  be  given 
to  each  of  the  widows  and  invalids  among  his 
tenants  ;  three  pounds  of  delicious  currants,  fresh 
from  Zante,  to  every  poor  family  in  Cardington  ;  two 
guineas  to  an  orphan  girl  ;  and  a  long  list  of  other 
Christmas  presents  lo  the  industrious  poor. 

Early  in  1787,  Mr  Howard  returned  to  England, 
to  try  the  effect  of  his  own  affectionate  attentions 
upon  the  deranged  mind  of  his  son ;  and  it  must 
have  proved  a  bitter  trial  to  his  anxious  heart  to 
find  that  the  sight  of  him  always  increased  the  de- 
lirium. After  a  series  of  unavailing  efforts  to 
restore  his  reason,  he  was  compelled  to  place  him 
in  a  lunatic  asylum. 

His  inspection  of  the  prisons  and  mad-houses  of 
England  was  followed  by  great  and  immediate  im- 
provements, and  thousands  of  human  beings  at  the 
present  day  owe  to  him  an  amelioration  of  their 
miserable  lot. 


MRS    HOWARD.  171 

The  benevolent  exertions  of  Mr  Howard  excited 
universal  respect  and  admiration  ;  and  a  subscrip- 
tion was  set  on  foot  to  erect  a  statue  to  his  memory. 

This  public  tribute  was  painful  to  his  humble 
and  modest  feelings,  and  he  begged  his  friends  to 
prevent  the  plan  from  being  carried  into  execution. 
"  Who,  that  knows  the  sinfulness  of  his  own  heart, 
could  allow  himself  to  receive  such  an  honor !" 
said  he.  He  gave  directions  that  a  plain  slip  of 
marble  placed  beneath  his  wife's  tablet  should  re- 
cord when  and  where  he  died,  with  the  jsimple 
epitaph,  '  Christ  is  my  Hope.' 

This  apostle  of  humanity  died  at  Cherson  in 
Russian  Tartary,  on  the  21st  of  January,  1790, 
aged  64.  He  desired  to  be  buried  without  pomp, 
and  without  monumental  inscription.  His  ruling 
passion  was  shown  in  death  ;  for  his  last  orders 
were  that  his  grave  should  be  made  useful  to  his 
fellow  mortals,  when  he  was  no  longer  alive  to  serve 
them.  "  Lay  me  quietly  in  the  earth,  place  a  sun- 
dial over  my  grave,"  said  he,  "and  let  me  be  for- 
gotten." 

His  request,  excepting  the  last  clause,  was  com- 
plied with ;  forgotten  he  can  never  be. 

A  marble,  bearing  the  record  he  desired,  was 
placed  under  his  wife's  tablet  at  Cardington. 

A  statue  was  afterward  erected  to  his  memory 
in  St  Paul's  Cathedral,  London  ;  and  in  his  gar- 
dens at  Cardington,  Samuel  Whitbread,  Esq.  raised 
a  pedestal,  with  an  inscription  to  commemorate  his 
virtue.?,  and  the  attachment  of  his  faithful  old  gar- 


172  MRS   HOWARD. 

dener.  The  servants  and  dependants  of  Howard 
could  never  mention  their  benefactor,  or  his  wife, 
without  tears  ;  and  the  most  trifling  articles  which 
had  belonged  to  them  were  considered  precious 
relics. 

The  old  gardener  was  alive  in  1812,  and  took 
great  delight  in  pointing  out  to  visiters  the  tree 
planted  by  Mrs  Howard.  The  identical  Bible,  in 
which  the  great  philanthropist  sought  for  guidance 
and  consolation  during  the  intervals  of  his  travels, 
still  occupied  its  accustomed  place  in  the  Root- 
House. 


MRS    BLACKWELL, 

WIFE    OF    DOCTOR    ALEXANDER    BLACKWELL,, 

MRS  ELIZABETH  BLACKWELL  was  the  daughter 
of  a  Scotch  merchant.  Her  husband,  Doctor  Al- 
exander Black  well,  was  a  native  of  Aberdeen,  and 
received  his  education  at  the  university  of  that  city. 
Success  in  his  profession  was  too  slow  to  keep  pace 
with  his  hopes,  —  perhaps  with  his  necessities  ;  and 
we  find  that  he  first  became  a  corrector  of  the  press 
in  London,  afterward  a  printer. 

His  new  business  soon  involved  him  in  debt, 
and  he  was  imprisoned.  Mrs  Blackwell  had  a  good 
knowledge  of  botany,  and  was  well  skilled  in 
drawing.  She  resolved  to  devote  these  talents  to 
the  benefit  of  her  unfortunate  husband,  and  she 
fulfilled  her  task  with  a  remarkable  degree  of  talent 
and  energy.  Having  heard  it  said  that  an  herbal 
of  medicinal  plants  was  much  wanted,  she  deter- 
mined to  supply  the  deficiency.  She  consulted 
Sir  Hans  Sloane  and  several  other  distinguished 
physicians ;  who  were  so  much  pleased  with  her 
drawings,  and  had  so  much  reverence  for  the  mo- 
tive, which  impelled  her  to  exertion,  that  they  gave 


174  MRS    BLACKWELL. 

her  every  possible  facility  for  procuring  plants  in 
their  freshest  state,  and  spared  no  pains  to  obtain 
for  her  the  favor  of  the  public.  When  Mrs  Black- 
well  had  made  the  drawings,  she  engraved  them  on 
copper,  and  colored  them  all  with  her  own  hands. 
Each  plate  was  accompanied  by  a  brief  description 
of  the  plant,  its  name  in  Latin,  English,  and  vari- 
ous other  languages,  its  qualities  and  uses.  These 
illustrations  were  written  by  Doctor  Blackwell. 

The  first  volume  was  published  in  1737,  and  the 
second  appeared  in  1789.  The  complete  work 
bore  the  following  title  :  "  A  curious  Herbal  con- 
taining FIVE  HUNDRED  of  the  most  useful  plants 
which  arc  now  used  in  the  practice  of  physic,  en- 
graved on  folio  copper  plates,  after  drawings  taken 
from  the  life.  To  which  is  added  a  short  descrip- 
tion of  the  plants,  and  their  common  uses  in  Physic." 

While  Mrs  Blackwell  was  completing  this  labori- 
ous undertaking,  she  resided  at  Chelsea,  near  the 
Garden  of  Medicinal  Plants  ;  where  she  was  fre- 
quently visited,  and  much  patronized,  by  people 
of  distinguished  rank  and  learning.  The  College 
of  Physicians  gave  the  book  a  public  testimonial 
of  their  approbation,  and  made  the  author  a  pres- 
ent. Dr  Pulteney,  speaking  of  this  work,  says, 
"  For  the  most  complete  set  of  drawings  of  medi- 
cinal plants,  we  are  indebted  to  the  genius  and 
industry  of  a  lady,  exerted  on  an  occasion  that 
redounded  highly  to  her  praise." 

Mrs  Blackwell  effected  the  purpose  for  which  all 
this  labor  was  performed ;  her  husband  regained 


MRS    BLACKWELL.  175 

his  liberty,  and  was,  for  a  time,  relieved  from  pecu- 
niary embarrassment.  But  this  ill-fated  man  seem- 
ed predestined  to  be  unfortunate  in  all  things,  save 
his  affectionate  and  excellent  wife.  He  formed 
various  schemes,  in  all  of  which  he  was  successively 
disappointed. 

He  finally  went  to  Sweden,  where  he  drained 
marshes,  projected  agricultural  improvements,  and 
was  sometimes  employed  as  physician  to  the  king. 
In  this  country  he  fell  under  the  suspicion  of  be- 
ing concerned  in  plots  against  the  government  ; 
and  although  he  protested  his  innocence  to  the 
very  last  moment,  he  perished  on  the  scaffold  in 
1747. 


GERTRUDE  VONDER  WART, 

WIFE    OF    BARON    VONDER    WART. 

IN  the  fourteenth  century,  the  Baron  Vender 
Wart  was  accused,  by  John  of  Swabia,  of  being  an 
accomplice  in  the  murder  of  the  Emperor  Albert. 
There  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  the  unhappy 
man  took  no  part  in  the  assassination.  He  was, 
'however,  bound  to  the  torturing  wheel,  where  his 
sufferings  ended  only  with  his  life.  The  devotion 
of  his  wife,  during  these  heart  rending  hours,  is 
described  by  herself,  in  a  letter  to  her  friend  Mar- 
garethe  Freianstien  ;  it  was  inserted  in  a  book  pub- 
lished at  Harlem  in  J818,  under  the  title  of 
"  Gertrude  Yonder  Wart,  or  Fidelity  till  Death. 
A  True  History  of  the  Fourteenth  Century." 

"  I  prayed  under  the  scaffold,  on  which  my  hus- 
band was  fastened  alive  upon  the  wheel,  and  ex- 
horted him  to  fortitude.  I  then  arose,  and  with 
thick  pieces  of  wood  built  myself  a  kind  of  steps, 
by  means  of  which  I  could  mount  up  to  the  wheel, 
laid  myself  upon  his  trembling  limbs  and  head, 
and  stroked  the  hair  from  his  face,  which  the  wind 
had  blown  over  it.  —  'I  beseech  you,  leave  me  ! 


GERTRUDE    YONDER    WART.  177 

Oh,  1  beseech  you  !  '  he  exclaimed  continually 
"  When  day  breaks,  if  you  should  be  found  here, 
what  will  be  your  fate  ?  and  what  new  misery  will 
you  bring  upon  me  ?  Oh,  God  !  is  it  passible  that 
thou  canst  still  increase  my  sufferings.' 

"  '  I  will  die  with  you  ;  'tis  for  that  I  corne,  and 
no  power  shall  force  me  from  you,'  said  I  ;  and 
I  spread  my  arms  over  him,  and  implored  God 
for  my  Rudolph's  death. 

"The  day  broke  slowly,  when  I  saw  many  people 
in  motion  opposite  us :  I  replaced  the  thick  pieces 
of  wood  where  I  had  found  them.  It  was  the 
guard,  who  had  fled  on  my  appearance,  but  had  re- 
mained near  the  spot,  and,  as  it  seemed,  caused  a 
report  to  be  made  of  what  had  passed ;  for  at  day- 
break all  the  people,  men,  women,  and  children, 
came  flocking  out  of  the  town. 

"  Among  these  people,  I  recognised  the  gaoler, 
who  had  given  rne  up  the  preceding  evening  to  Von 
Landenberg.  The  report  must  also  have  reached 
him,  that  I  had  been  with  my  husband  ;  for  he  ap- 
proached me,  shaking  his  head,  and  said  :  '  Wo- 
man! this  was  not  the  intention  when  Landenberg 
fetched  you  yesterday  ! ' 

"  As  more  people  approached,  I  saw  also  several 
women  of  my  acquaintance,  among  them  was  the 
wife  of  the  bailiff  Hugo  Von  Winterthur:  1  salut- 
ed her,  and  begged  her  intervention  with  her  hus- 
band, that  he  migfit  order  the  executioner  to  put 
an  end  to  my  husband's  cruel  sufferings. 

"  '  He  dare  not  do  anything  for  me,'  sighed  Wart, 
12 


178  GERTRUDE    YONDER    WART. 

upon  the  wheel,  again  moving  his  head  at  this 
moment,  and  looking  down  upon  me  with  his 
swollen  eyes — 'He  dare  not  do  anything;  the 
Queen  pronounced  the  sentence  ;  and  the  bailiff 
must  therefore  obey  :  otherwise  I  had  well  deserv- 
ed of  him  that  he  should  do  me  this  last  kindness.' 

"  Some  persons  brought  me  bread  and  confection- 
ary, and  offered  me  wine  to  refresh  me  ;  but  I  could 
take  nothing.  The  tears  that  were  shed,  and  the 
pity  that  animated  every  heart,  and  was  kindly  ex- 
pressed, was  to  me  the  most  agreeable  refreshment. 
As  it  grew  lighter,  the  number  of  people  increased ; 
I  recognised  also  the  sheriff  Steiner  Von  Pfungen, 
with  his  two  sons,  Conrad  and  Datlikon  ;  also  a 
Madame  Von  Neftenbach,  who  was  praying  for  us. 

"  The  executioner  came  also ;  then  Lampuchtthe 
confessor  ;  the  first  said  with  a  sigh ;  '  God  have 
compassion  on  this  unhappy  man,  and  comfort 
his  soul  !'  the  latter  asked  Rudolph  if  he  would 
not  yet  confess?  Wart,  with  a  dreadful  exertion  of 
all  his  strength,  repeated  the  same  words  that  he 
had  called  out  to  the  Queen  before  the  tribunal  at 
Brugk.  The  priest  was  silent. 

"  All  at  once  I  heard  a  cry  of  '  make  way  !'  and 
a  troop  of  horsemen  approached  with  their  vizors 
down. 

"  The  executioner  kneeled,  the  confessor  laid  his 
hand  upon  his  breast,  the  horsemen  halted.  Fath- 
ers and  mothers  held  up  their  children  in  their 
arms,  and  the  guard  with  their  lances  formed  a 
circle,  while  the  tallest  of  the  knights  raised  him- 


GERTRUDE    YONDER    WART.  179 

self  in  his  stirrups,  and  said  to  the  executioner, 
'  Whither  are  the  crows  flown,  that  he  still  keeps 
his  eyes  ?'  and  this  was  the  duke  Leopold. 

"  My  heart  ceased  to  beat,  when  another  knight 
with  a  scornful  smile  said  :  '  Let  him  writhe  as 
long  as  he  has  feeling ;  but  then  people  must  be 
gone.  Confounded  wretches!  this  sighing  and 
crying  makes  me  mad !  No  pity  must  be  shown 
here ;  and  she,  who  so  increases  the  howling,  who 
is  she?  what  does  the  woman  want?  away  with 
her !' 

"  I  now  recognised  the  voice  of  the  Queen.  It 
was  Agnes,  in  the  dress  and  armor  of  a  knight. 
I  remarked  immediately  that  it  was  a  woman's 
voice,  and  it  is  certain  that  it  was  Agnes. 

"  '  It  is  Wart's  wife  !'  I  heard  a  third  knight  say. 
'  Last  night  when  the  sentence  was  executed,  we 
took  her  with  us  to  Kyburg.  She  escaped  from 
us  ;  and  I  must  find  her  here  then  !  We  thought 
that  in  her  despair  she  had  leaped  into  the  moat  of 
the  castle.  We  have  been  seeking  her  since  this 
morning  early.  God  !  what  faithful  love !  Let 
her  alone ;  nothing  can  be  done  with  her.' 

"  J  here  recognised  the  mild  tempered  youth,  Von 
Landenberg.  How  well  did  he  now  speak  for  me  ! 
I  could  have  fallen  at  his  feet. 

"  '  Well,  Gertrude  !'  cried  a  fourth  tone,  '  will  you 
not  yet  take  rational  advice  ?  do  not  kill  yourself ! 
save  yourself  for  the  world  !  you  will  not  repent  of 
it.' 

"  Who  was  this,   Margaretha?     I  trembled  ;  it 


]80  GERTRUDE    YONDER    WART, 

was  she  who  wanted  to  persuade  me  at  Brugk,  to 
leave  the  criminal  Wart  to  his  fate,  and  pass  days 
of  joy  with  her.  Then  I  too  could  almost  have 
exclaimed,  '  God  !  this  is  too  much  ! ' 

"Agnes  made  a  sign  to  an  esquire  to  raise  me  up. 
and  bring  me  away  from'the  scaffold.  He  approach- 
ed me,  but  I  threw  my  arm  round  it,  and  implored 
my  own  and  my  husband's  death.  But  in  vain  ! 
two  men  dragged  me  away.  I  besought  assistance 
from  Heaven  ;  it  was  granted  me. 

"  Von  Landenberg  (otherwise  a  faithful  servant 
of  Austria)  once  more  ventured  to  speak  for  me, 
'  Cease  to  humble  her  ;  such  fidelity  is  not  found 
on  earth  :  angels  in  Heaven  must  rejoice  at  it ;  but 
it  would  be  good  if  the  people  were  driven  away.' 

"  They  let  me  loose  again  ;  the  horsemen  depart- 
ed ;  tears  flowed  from  Lamprecht's  eyes  ;  he  had 
acted  strictly  according  to  his  duty,  and  executed 
the  will  of  the  Queen  :  he  could  now  listen  to  the 
voice  of  nature  and  weep  with  me.  'lean  hold 
out  no  longer,  noble  lady  !  I  am  vanquished  !  your 
name  shall  be  mentioned  with  glory  among  the 
saints  in  heaven,  for  this  world  will  forget  it.  Be 
faithful  unto  death,  and  receive  the  crown  of 
life,'  said  he  —  gave  me  his  hand  and  departed. 

"  Every  body  now  left  the  place,  except  the  exe- 
cutioner and  the  guard:  evening  came  on,  and  at 
length  silent  night ;  a  stormy  wind  arose,  and  its 
howling  joined  with  the  loud  and  unceasing  pray- 
ers which  I  put  up  to  the  Almighty. 


GERTRUDE   YONDER    WART.  181 

"  One  of  the  guard  now  brought  me  a  cloak  to  pro- 
tect me  against Ihe  wind,  because  it  was  night ;  but 
I  got  upon  the  wheel  and  spread  it  upon  the  naked 
and  broken  limbs  of  my  husband  ;  the  wind  whist- 
led through  his  hair,  his  lips  were  dry.  I  fetched 
him  some  water  in  my  shoe,  which  was  a  refresh- 
ment to  us  both.  I  know  not,  my  dearest  Margare- 
tha,  how  it  was  possible  for  me  to  live  through  such 
heart-breaking  and  cruel  hours  ! 

"  But  I  lay,  as  if  guarded  and  wonderfully  strength- 
ened by  God's  Angels  and  the  Saints,  continually 
praying  near  the  wheel  on  which  my  whole  world 
reposed. 

"  During  this  time  my  thoughts  were  with  God. 
As  often  as  a  sigh  broke  from  the  breast  of  my 
Rudolph  it  was  a  dagger  in  my  heart.  But  I  re- 
membered the  Holy  Virgin,  how  she  too  had  suf- 
fered under  the  cross  of  her  Son,  and  consoled  my- 
self with  the  hope  that  after  a  short  time  of  suffer- 
ing, the  eternal  joys  of  Heaven  would  be  my  por- 
tion, and  this  gave  me  courage  to  suffer  ;  I  knew 
too,  for  whom  I  suffered,  and  this  gave  me  strength 
in  the  combat,  so  that  I  endured  to  the  very  last 
moment. 

"  Though  Wart  had  at  first  so  earnestly  begged 
of  me  not  to  increase  his  agonies  by  my  presence, 
yet  he  now  thanked  me  as  much  for  not  having 
left  him.  In  my  prayers  to  God  he  found  consola- 
tion and  refreshment ;  it  was  a  comfort  to  his  soul 
•when  I  prayed. 

"  How  the  last  dreadful  morning  and  noon  were 


182  GERTRUDE    VONDER    WART. 

spent,  permit  me  to  pass  over  in  silence.  —  A  feu- 
hours  before  evening,  Rudolph  moved  his  head  for 
the  last  time ;  I  raised  myself  up  to  him.  He 
murmured  very  faintly,  but  with  smiling  love  upon 
his  lips,  these  words  ;  '  Gertrude,  this  is  fidelity  till 
death,'  and  expired.  — On  my  knees  I  thanked  God 
for  the  grace,  which  he  had  given  me  to  remain 
faithful  to  the  end." 


PANT  HE  A, 

WIFE  OF   ABRADATAS,    KING  OF  THE  SUSIANS. 

WHEN  Cyrus  the  Great  conquered  the  Assyrians, 
Panthea  was  among  the  captives  of  his  sword. 
Her  husband,  Abradatas,  was  gone  on  an  embassy 
to  the  King  of  the  Bactrians,  at  the  time  the  camp 
was  taken  by  the  Persians  ;  and  at  this  trying  mo- 
ment the  poor  queen  had  no  one  to  whom  she  could 
fly  for  protection  or  sympathy. 

Being  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  all  Asia,  Pan- 
thea was  selected  as  a  suitable  present  for  the  con- 
quering Cyrus.  When  the  Persian  officers  visited 
her  tent,  the  gracefulness  of  her  figure  immediate- 
ly attracted  attention,  although  she  was  dressed  in 
the  same  manner  as  her  servants,  and  covered  with 
a  long  veil.  Perceiving  her  deep  dejection,  they 
said  to  her,  "  Take,  courage,  woman  ;  we  have 
heard  that  your  husband  is  indeed  an  excellent 
man  ;  but  WR  have  chosen  you  for  one,  who  is  not 
inferior  to  him  in  person,  in  understanding,  or  in 
power  ;  for  if  there  be  a  man  in  the  world  who  de- 
serves admiration,  it  is  Cyrus  ;  and  to  him  hence- 
forward you  shall  belong."  As  soon  as  the  young 


184  PAN  THE  A. 

queen  heard  this,  she  burst  into  a  passion  of  grief5 
and  refused  all  consolation  ;  for  her  heart  was  with 
her  husband. 

When  Cyrus  heard  the  story,  he  refused  even  to 
see  her,  lest  he  might  be  too  much  fascinated  by 
her  rare  loveliness. 

He  ordered  his  friend,  Araspes,  to  see  that  she 
was  attended  with  the  utmost  respect,  and  nothing 
omitted,  which  could  contribute  to  her  happiness. 

Araspes,  dazzled  by  her  beauty,  and  hearing 
continually  of  her  excellence,  became  very  much 
in  love  with  her.  For  a  long  time,  Panthea  refrain- 
ed from  bringing  any  complaint  against  the  friend 
of  Cyrus  ;  but  at  last  he  grew  so  importunate  and 
troublesome,  that  she  was  obliged  to  inform  the 
king  of  his  conduct. 

Cyrus,  unwilling  to  treat  his  friend  in  an  angry 
manner,  yet  anxious  to  place  him  out  of  the  way  of 
the  charming  captive,  proposed  to  Araspes  to  pro- 
ceed to  the  enemy's  camp,  as  a  pretended  deserter, 
but  real  spy.  Araspes,  who  was  conscious  of  de- 
serving severe  reproof,  readily  consented.  When 
Panthea  heard  of  his  desertion,  she  sent  a  messen- 
ger to  Cyrus,  saying,  "  Do  not'be  afflicted  that 
Araspes  has  gone  over  to  the  enemy.  If  you  allow 
me  to  send  for  my  husband,  I  will  engage  that  he 
will  prove  a  much  more  faithful  friend  than  Aras- 
pes. The  prince,  who  now  reigns,  once  attempted 
to  part  us  from  each  other;  Abradatas  therefore 
considers  him  an  unjust  man.  1  know  that  he 
would  joyfully  revolt  from  him  to  such  a  man  as 
you  are." 


P  A  N  T  H  E  A  .  185 

Permission  to  send  for  her  husband  was  readily 
granted  ;  and  when  Abradatas  heard  how  gene- 
rously his  wife  had  been  treated  by  the  conqueror, 
he  cheerfully  marched  with  two  thousand  horse  to 
join  the  forces  of  Cyrus.  When  he  came  up  with 
the  Persian  scouts,  he  sent  to  the  king  to  tell  him 
who  he  was  ;  and  Cyrus  ordered  him  to  be  con- 
ducted immediately  to  his  wife's  tent. 

This  unexpected  meeting  was  most  affectionate 
and  joyful.  When  Panthea  recounted  the  kind  and 
respectful  attention  she  had  received  from  Cyrus, 
Abradatas  exclaimed,  "  What  can  I  do,  to  pay  the 
debt  I  owe  him  !"  In  the  warmth  of  his  gratitude, 
he  pressed  the  hand  of  Cyrus,  and  offered  to  be 
his  friend,  his  servant,  and  his  ally,  promising  to 
serve  him  at  all  times  to  the  utmost  of  his  skill  and 
power.  Cyrus  treated  him  like  a  prince  and  like 
a  brother. 

Preparations  were  then  making  for  a  battle  with 
the  Egyptians,  and  Abradatas  caused  a  chariot  to 
be  fitted  up  magnificently  for  the  occasion. 

When  the  time  arrived,  and  he  began  to  equip 
himself  for  the  contest,  Panthea  brought  him  a 
golden  helmet  and  arm-pieces,  broad  bracelets  for 
his  wrists,  a  long  purple  robe  ;  and  a  crest  dyed  of 
a  violet  color  ;  she  had  taken  measure  of  her  hus- 
band's armor,  and  had  these  things  prepared  with- 
out his  knowledge. 

Much  surprised  at  the  costly  gift,  he  exclaimed, 
"  Have  you  made  these  for  me  by  destroying  your 
own  ornaments?"  "  Not  my  most  valuable  one," 


186  PANTHEA. 

replied  Panthea  ;  "  for  you  are  my  greatest  orna- 
ment." As  she  said  this,  she  tried  to  put  on  the 
armor,  and  the  tears  flowed  down  her  cheeks  in 
spite  of  her  efforts  to  conceal  them. 

Abradatas  was  a  very  handsome  man,  and  when 
he  was  equipped  in  his  rich  armor,  he  looked  ex- 
tremely noble  and  beautiful. 

As  he  took  the  reins,  and  was  about  to  mount 
his  chariot,  Panthea  said  :  "  O,  Abradatas,  if  ever 
there  was  a  woman  who  loved  her  husband  better 
than  her  own  soul,  you  know  that  I  am  such  an  one. 
I  need  not  therefore,  speak  of  things  in  particular  ; 
my  actions  have  convinced  you  more  than  any  words 
I  can  now  use.  Yet  I  declare,  by  the  love  we  bear 
each  other,  I  had  rather  be  buried  with  you,  ap- 
proving yourself  a  brave  man,  than  to  live  with 
you  in  disgrace  and  shame  ;  so  much  do  I  think 
you  and  myself  worthy  of  the  noblest  things. 

"  We  owe  great  obligations  to  Cyrus.  When  I 
was  his  captive,  he  did  not  treat  me  as  a  slave,  but 
kept  me  for  you,  as  if  he  had  been  my  brother. 
Besides,  when  he  permitted  me  to  send  for  you,  I 
promised  that  you  would  be  a  more  true  and  faith- 
ful friend  than  Araspes." 

Abradatas,  laying  his  hand  gently  on  her  head, 
and  raising  his  eyes  to  heaven,  said,  "  O,  Great 
Jove,  grant  that  I  may  be  a  husband  worthy  or 
Panthea,  and  a  friend  worthy  of  Cyrus  !" 

When  he  had  mounted  the  chariot,  and  the  driver 
had  shut  the  door,  Panthea,  kissed  the  place  where 


PANTHEA.  187 

his  foot  had  rested,  as  he  entered.  Unknown  to 
him,  she  followed  a  short  distance  ;  when  he  turned 
and  perceived  her,  he  said,  "  Take  courage,  Pan- 
thea  !  Farewell,  and  be  happy  ;  now  go  to  your 
home." 

Though  Abradatas  and  his  equippage  made  a 
gorgeous  appearance,  the  people  could  look  at  no- 
thing but  Panthea,  so  long  as  she  was  in  sight. 
Her  attendants  conducted  her  to  her  conveyance, 
and  concealed  her  by  throwing  the  covering  of  a 
tent  over  her. 

Abradatas,  inspired  by  gratitude  to  Cyrus,  and 
love  for  Panthea,  insisted  upon  being  placed  in  the 
foremost  danger,  where  he  fought  with  strength 
and  courage,  almost  supernatural. 

When  the  long  and  bloody  struggle  was  over, 
and  Cyrus  had  given  directions  concerning  the 
division  of  the  spoils  among  his  victorious  army, 
he  said,  "  Why  does  not  Abradatas  appear  before 
me  ?  Have  any  of  you  seen  him  ?"  One  of  the 
servants  replied,  "  My  sovereign,  he  comes  not 
because  he  is  no  longer  living.  He  died  in  the 
battle,  as  his  chariot  broke  into  the  Egyptian  ranks. 
It  is  said  that  his  wife  has  taken  up  the  dead  body 
and  brought  it  hither  beside  her  in  the  carriage  ; 
and  her  servants  are  digging  a  grave  on  a  certain 
eminence  by  the  river  Pactolus.  Panthea  has 
decked  him  with  all  the  ornaments  she  has,  and  is 
sitting  on  the  ground,  with  his  head  on  her  knees." 

Cyrus    smote    himself,  with  an   exclamation    of 


188  PAN  THE  A. 

deep  sorrow.  Having  given  orders  to  prepare  rich 
ornaments  and  sheep,  oxen,  and  horses,  suitable 
for  the  burial  of  a  prince,  a  friend,  and  an  excellent 
man,  he  set  off  with  a  thousand  horsemen,  toward 
the  scene  of  affliction. 

When  he  came  in  sight  of  Panthea,  with  the 
dead  body  reposing  on  her  lap,  he  could  not  restrain 
his  tears.  "  Alas,  thou  brave  and  faithful  soul ! 
and  hast  thou  gone  from  us  ?"  said  he,  affectionate- 
ly taking  the  right  hand  of  Abradatas.  The  hand 
separated  from  the  wrist  ;  for  it  had  been  cut  off 
by  the  Egyptians.  Panthea  shrieked  piteously  ; 
and  taking  the  hand  from  Cyrus,  she  kissed  it,  and 
endeavored  to  fit  it  to  its  place.  "  The  rest  is  in  the 
same  condition,  Cyrus,"  said  she  ;  "  but  why  should 
you  see  it.  I  know  that  I  was  partly  the  cause  of 
his  sufferings.  Fool  that  I  was  !  I  exhorted  him  to 
behave  in  such  a  manner  as  to  gain  your  notice. 
He  has  died  without  reproach ;  and  I,  who  urged 
him  on,  sit  here  alive." 

Cyrus,  for  some  time  wept  in  silence ;  at  last  he 
said,  "  Woman,  he  has  died  a  noble  death  ;  for  he 
died  victorious.  Be  assured  he  s'hall  not  want  re- 
spect and  honor  in  all  things.  Such  sacrifices  shall 
be  offered  as  are  proper  for  a  brave  man,  and  a 
monument  shall  be  raised  worthy  of  him  and  us. 
You  shall  be  provided  for,  and  such  honors  paid  to 
you  as  your  virtues  deserve  at  my  hands.  Do  but 
make  known  to  me  where  you  wish  to  go,  and  suit- 
able attendance  shall  be  immediately  furnished. 


PANTHEA.  189 

Panthea  expressed  her  gratitude  ;  adding,  "  Be  as- 
sured, Cyrus,  I  will  soon  let  you  know  to  whom  I 
wish  to  go." 

The  generous  king  went  away  full  ot  grief  that 
those,  who  had  loved  each  other  so  well,  should  be 
thus  cruelly  separated.  When  he  had  gone,  Pan- 
thea dismissed  all  the  attendants,  except  her  nurse  ; 
to  whom  she  gave  orders  that  her  body,  when  she 
was  dead,  should  be  wrapped  in  the  same  mantle 
with  her  husband.  The  nurse,  suspecting  her  in- 
tention, intreated  her  to  change  her  purpose ;  and 
finding  her  prayers  of  no  avail,  she  sat  down  and 
burst  into  tears.  Panthea  plunged  a  sword  into 
her  heart,  and  laying  her  head  upon  her  husband's 
breast,  expired.  The  nurse  uttered  a  shriek  of 
lamentation  ;  and  when  she  saw  that  all  was  indeed 
over,  she  covered  the  bodies,  as  she  had  been 
directed. 

When  the  three  servants  discovered  what  had 
been  done  aftsr  they  were  sent  away,  they  likewise 
killed  themselves.  Cyrus  caused  a  magnificent 
monument  to  be  erected,  on  which  the  names  of 
Abradatas  and  Panthea  were  inscribed  in  Syriac 
letters.  Below  were  three  pillars  raised  in  com- 
memoration of  the  faithful  attendants. 

The  last  act  of  the  unfortunate  Panthea  must 
not  be  judged  too  harshly.  She  lived  before  the 
light  of  the  gospel  had  dawned  upon  the  world  ; 
and  in  those  stern  times,  self-sacrifice,  under  such 
circumstances,  was  deemed  a  sublime  virtue. 


190  PANT  HE  A. 

Without  knowing  it  to  be  a  sin,  she  rushed  from 
a  world  where  she  saw  nothing  remaining  for  her 
but  the  lingering  death  of  a  breaking  heart ;  and 
we  can  only  hope  that  her  spirit  was  soon  united 
to  him  she  loved,  in  a  region  where  ignorance 
is  enlightened,  and  goodness  made  perfect. 


CHELONIS, 

WIFE  OF  CLEOMBROTUS,  OF  LACE  DEM  ON. 

CHELONIS  was  the  daughter  of  Leonidas,  king  of 
Lacedemon.  During  the  reign  of  this  monarch 
Agis  proposed  an  equal  distribution  of  lands;  a 
proposition  which  was,  of  course,  warmly  seconded 
by  the  mass  of  the  people,  and  generally  opposed 
by  the  wealthy.  Leonidas  gave  his  influence  to  the 
aristocratic  party.  A  formidable  faction  arose 
against  him,  of  which  his  son-in-law,  Cleombrotus, 
was  persuaded  to  be  the  leader  ;  although  the  step 
was  warmly  opposed  by  his  wife. 

Leonidas  fled  to  the  altar  of  Minerva  for  safety,* 
and  there  his  daughter  Chelonis  joined  him  in 
prayers  to  the  goddess.  Cleombrotus  ascended  the 
throne  ;  but  his  indignant  wife  refused  to  share  his 
fortunes.  As  long  as  her  father  remained  in  sanc- 
tuary, she  stayed  with  him  ;  and  when  he  escaped 
to  Tegea,  she  followed  him  into  exile. 

It  was  not  long  before  a  counter-revolution  took 
place,  and  Leonidas  was  recalled.  The  monarch, 

*Acco!(lin2:  to  the;  laws  of  ;incieut  Greece,  a  criminal 
could  not  be  taken  from  the  temples  of  the  gods. 


192  CHELONIS. 

according  to  the  fierce  spirit  of  those  ancient  times, 
returned  full  of  fury  against  the  party,  which  had 
dethroned  him  ;  and  his  rebellious  son-in-law  was 
particularly  marked  out  as  an  object  of  revenge. 

Cleombrotus  took  refuge  in  the  Temple  of  Nep- 
tune. Here  he  was  sought  by  his  angry  father, 
who  bitterly  reproached  him  for  his  conduct.  Cle- 
ombrotus, silent  and  confused,  attempted  no  justifi- 
cation of  himself.  But  with  the  change  of  fortune, 
Chelonis  had  changed  :  with  dishevelled  hair  and 
a  dress  of  deep  mourning,  she  sat  by  her  husband's 
side,  endeavoring  to  console  him  in  the  most  affec- 
tionate manner  ;  her  two  little  children  were  at  her 
feet. 

At  this  sight,  Leonidas,  and  the  soldiers,  who 
were  with  him,  were  moved  even  to  tears. 

Pointing  to  her  mourning  habit,  Chelonis  thus 
addressed  the  king  :  "  This  habit,  my  dear  father, 
was  not  first  assumed  out  of  compassion  to  Cleom- 
brotus. My  sorrows  began  with  your  misfortunes, 
and  have  ever  since  remained  my  familiar  com- 
panions. Now  that  you  are  again  king  of  Sparta, 
can  I  assume  royal  ornaments  while  the  husband 
of  my  youth,  whom  you  yourself  bestowed  upon 
me,  fulls  a  victim  to  your  vengeance  ?  If  his  own 
submission,  if  the  tears  of  his  wife  and  children 
cannot  move  you,  he  must  suffer  a  severer  punish- 
ment than  even  you  wish  to  inflict  upon  him  ;  he 
must  see  his  beloved  wife  die  before  him.  How 
can  I  live,  and  support  the  sight  of  women,  when 
both  my  husband  and  my  father  have  refused  to 


CHELON1S.  193 

listen  to  my  supplications  ?  If  Cleombrotus  .wrong- 
ed you,  I  atoned  for  it  by  forsaking  him  to  follow 
you  ;  but  if  you  put  him  to  death,  you  will  make  an 
apology  for  his  ambition,  by  showing  that  a  crown 
is  so  bright  and  desirable  an  object,  that  a  son-in- 
law  must  be  slain,  and  a  daughter  utterly  disregard- 
ed, where  that  is  in  question." 

As  Chelonis  ended,  she  rested  her  cheek  sorrow- 
fully on  her  husband's  head,  and  looked  at  her  fa- 
ther with  tearful  eyes.  After  a  short  struggle 
with  himself,  Leonidas  commanded  Cleombrotus  to 
arise  and  go  into  exile.  He  earnestly  entreated 
his  daughter  to  remain  with  him,  and  share  his 
prosperity,  as  she  had  shared  his  misfortunes. 

Chelonis  would  not  forsake  her  husband.  When 
he  rose  from  the  ground,  she  put  one  infant  in  his 
arms,  and  took  the  other  herself;  and  having  pray- 
ed at  the  altar,  where  they  had  taken  sanctuary, 
she  went  with  him  into  banishment. 

What  a  contemptible  loss  was  a  kingdom,  to  one 
who  possessed  the  affections  of  this  noble-minded 
Spartan  matron ! 


13 


CALPHURNIA, 

WIFE     OF    PLINY    THE    YOUNGER. 

PLINIUS  C/ECILIUS  SECUNDUS  (Caius)  was  the 
nephew  of  Plinius  Secundus  (Caius)  one  of  the 
most  ancient  and  learned  of  the  Roman  writers, 
who  was  suffocated  in  consequence  of  observing 
an  eruption  of  Vesuvius  too  closely.  The  names 
of  both  uncle  and  nephew  have  come  down  to  the 
present  time  with  lustre  undimmed  by  the  lapse  of 
ages. 

Pliny  the  younger  was  born  A.  D.  62,  and  died 
A.  D.  113.  He  had  very  great  reputation  as  a 
lawyer,  and  was  particularly  renowned  for  his  elo- 
quence. He  was  Consul  during  the  reign  of  Tra- 
jan, and  pronounced  a  splendid  panegyric  upon 
that  Emperor  before  the  Roman  senate  :  this  fine 
specimen  of  his  eloquence,  and  his  "  Epistles,"  are 
all  that  remain  of  his  writings. 

The  domestic  affection,  portrayed  in  the  following 
letters,  blends  its  soft  tints  beautifully  and  harmoni- 
ously with  the  more  brilliant  colorings  of  his  fame. 

They  were  translated  by  Lord  Orrery,  and  pub- 
lished in  the  Biographium  Foemineum. 


CALPHURXIA.  195 

PLINY    TO    HISPULLA,    THE    AUNT    OF    C  ALPHU  RNIA. 

"As  you  are  an  example  of  every  virtue,  and  as 
you  tenderly  loved  your  excellent  brother,  whose 
daughter  (to  whom  you  supplied  the  place  of  both 
parents)  you  considered  as  your  own,  I  doubt  not 
but  you  will  rejoice  to  learn,  that  she  proves  worthy 
of  her  father,  worthy  of  you,  and  worthy  of  her 
grandfather.  She  has  great  talents;  she  is  an  ad- 
mirable economist ;  and  she  loves  me  with  an  en- 
tire affection.  To  these  qualities  she  unites  a 
taste  for  literature,  inspired  by  her  tenderness  for 
me.  She  has  collected  my  works,  which  she  reads 
perpetually,  and  even  learns  to  repeat.  When  I 
am  to  plead,  how  great  is  the  anxiety  she  suffers  ! 
When  I  have  succeeded,  her  joy  is  not  less  exqui- 
site. She  engages  people  to  tell  her  what  applauses 
I  have  gained,  what  acclamations  I  have  excited, 
and  what  judgment  is  pronounced  on  my  orations. 
When  I  am  to  speak  in  public  she  places  herself  as 
near  to  me  as  possible,  under  the  cover  of  her  veil, 
and  listens  with  delight  to  the  praises  bestowed 
upon  me.  She  sings  my  verses,  and,  untaught, 
adapts  them  to  the  lute  :  love  is  her  only  instructor. 

"  Hence  I  expect  with  certainty  that  our  happi- 
ness will  be  durable,  and  that  it  will  daily  increase. 
In  me  she  is  not  captivated  by  youth  or  beauty, 
which  are  liable  to  accident  and  decay,  but  with 
the  lustre  of  my  name.  These  are  the  sentiments 
which  become  a  woman  formed  by  your  hand,  and 
instructed  by  your  precepts.  Under  your  roof,  she 


196  CALPHURNIA. 

beheld  only  purity  and  virtue  ;  it  was  your  appro- 
bation that  taught  her  to  love  rne.  Your  filial  af- 
fection for  my  mother  led  you  in  my  childhood  to 
praise  and  model  me,  to  presage  that  I  should  one 
day  be  the  man  my  wife  now  fancies  me  to  be. 
We,  therefore,  mutually  return  you  thanks  :  I,  be- 
cause you  have  given  her  to  me  ;  she,  because  you 
have  given  me  to  her.  You  have  selected  us  as 
formed  for  each  other.  Farewell." 

PLINY    TO     CALPHURNIA. 

"  My  eager  desire  to  see  you  is  incredible.  Love 
is  its  first  spring ;  the  next,  that  we  have  been  so 
seldom  separated.  I  pass  the  greater  part  of  the 
night  in  thinking  of  you.  In  the  day  also,  at  those 
hours  in  which  I  have  been  accustomed  to  see  you, 
my  feet  carry  me  spontaneously  to  your  apartment, 
whence  I  constantly  return  out  of  humor  and  de- 
jected, as  if  you  had  refused  to  admit  me.  There 
is  one  part  of  the  day  only  that  affords  relief  to 
my  disquiet ;  the  time  dedicated  to  pleading  the 
causes  of  my  friends.  Judge  what  a  life  mine 
must  be,  when  labor  is  my  rest,  and  when  cares 
and  perplexities  are  my  only  comforts.  Adieu." 


MRS    KLOPSTOCK, 

WIFE    OF  FREDERIC-GOTTLIEB    KLOPSTOCK. 

KLOPSTOCK  was  born  at  Quedlinburg,  July,  1724. 
At  school  he  very  early  attracted  attention  by  his 
rapid  progress  in  learning ;  and  he  was  not  twenty 
years  of  age  when  he  first  conceived  the  project  of 
writing  his  great  epic  poem,  called  The  Messiah. 
His  poetic  ardor  was  damped  for  awhile  by  the 
opinions  of  associates  altogether  incapable  of  com- 
prehending his  genius  ;  but  he  soon  found  sympa- 
thizing and  admiring  friends,  by  whose  means  the 
poem  was  given  to  the  public  in  1748.  It  produc- 
ed a  wonderful  sensation.  The  young,  unknown 
student  at  once  became  the  most  celebrated  poet  of 
his  country,  and  was  universally  called  "  the  Ger- 
man Milton."*  The  father  of  Klopstock  is  spoken 
of  as  an  excellent  man,  with  much  simplicity  of 
heart,  and  a  strong  belief  in  spiritual  existences  ; 
perhaps  his  son  early  received  from  him  those  deep 

*  Coleridge  being  asked  if  he  thought  this  epithet  was  pro- 
perly applied  to  Klopstock,  answered,  "  Yes,  he  is,  a  very 
German  Milton." 


198  MRS    KLOPSTOCK. 

religious  feelings,  which  directed  his  choice  of  sub- 
jects, and  characterized  all  his  writings. 

Lavater  was  an  enthusiastic  admirer  of  "  The 
Messiah;"  speaking  of  the  writer,  he  calls  him 
"  That  great  author,  that  confidant  of  the  angels  !  " 
The  Odes  of  Klopstock,  though  not  received  with  so 
much  enthusiasm  as  his  epic  poem,  are  by  many, 
considered  his  best  claim  to  the  admiration  of  pos- 
terity. 

The  young  man,  who  was  so  early  enamored  of 
poetry,  of  course  easily  became  in  love  with  the 
embodied  poetry  found  in  female  beauty. 

The  first  object  of  his  attachment  was  the  sister 
of  his  intimate  friend  Schmidt ;  but  the  lady, 
though  a  fervent  admirer  of  his  genius,  could  not 
reciprocate  his  affection. 

This  disappointment,  produced  a  powerful  effect 
on  his  susceptible  character,  and  it  was  difficult 
for  him  to  conquer  the  deep  melancholy  which  im- 
paired his  health.  Travelling,  by  degrees,  restored 
his  cheerfulness.  He  spent  nearly  a  year  with  Bod- 
mer*  in  Switzerland,  enchanted  by  the  grandeur 
of  the  scenery,  and  the  simplicity  of  the  inhab- 
itants. 

An  earnest  invitation  from  Frederic  the  Fifth,  and 
a  pension  of  two  thousand  francs,  induced  him  to 
go  to  Copenhagen  in  1751.  On  his  way,  he  pass- 
ed through  Hamburg,  where  he  became  acquainted 
with  Margaret  Moller,  the  lady  whom  he  married 

*  Bodmer,  was  the  editor  of  an  eminent  Swiss  Review. 


MRS    KLOPSTOCK.  199 

in  1754 ;  and  who  has  since  been  famous  in  many 
languages,  under  the  title  of  "  Klopstock's  Meta." 

No  account  of  their  love  can  equal  her  own 
charming  letters.  I  cannot  believe  the  most  rigid 
grammarian,  or  the  most  fastidious  prude,  will  wisii 
a  single  line  of  her  innocent,  lisping  English,  omit- 
ted, or  altered. 

The  letters  are  addressed  to  Richardson,  the 
author  of  Sir  Charles  Grandison  : 

HAMBURG,  MARCH  14,  1758. 

**###*# 

You  will  know  all  that  concerns  me.  Love, 
dear  sir,  is  all  what  me  concerns  !  and  love  shall  be 
all  what  I  will  tell  you  in  this  letter. 

In  one  happy  night  I  read  my  husband's  poem, 
the  Messiah.  1  was  extremely  touched  with  it. 
The  next  day  I  asked  one  of  his  friends,  who  was 
the  author  of  this  poem  ?  and  this  was  the  first 
time  I  heard  Klopstock's  name.  I  believe,  I  fell 
immediately  in  love  with  him.  At  the  least,  my 
thoughts  were  ever  with  him  filled,  especially  be- 
cause his  friend  told  me  very  much  of  his  character. 
But  I  had  no  hopes  ever  to  see  him,  when  quite 
unexpectedly  1  heard  that  he  should  pass  through 
Hamburg.  I  wrote  immediately  to  the  same  friend, 
for  procuring  by  his  means  that  I  might  see  the 
author  of  the  Messiah,  when  in  Hamburg.  He 
told  him  that  a  certain  girl  at  Hamburg  wished  to 
see  him,  and,  for  all  recommendation,  showed  him 
some  letters,  in  which  I  made  bold  to  criticize 


200  MRS    KLOPSTOCK. 

Klopstock  s  verses.  Klopstock  came,  and  came  to 
me.  I  must  confess,  that,  though  greatly  prepos- 
sessed of  his  qualities,  I  never  thought  him  the 
amiable  youth  whom  I  found  him.  This  made  its 
effect. 

After  having  seen  him  two  hours,  I  was  obliged 
to  pass  the  evening  in  a  company,  which  had  never 
been  so  wearisome  to  me.  I  could  not  speak,  I 
could  not  play  ;  I  thought  I  saw  nothing  but  Klop- 
stock. I  saw  him  the  next  day,  and  the  following, 
and  we  were  very  seriously  friends.  But  the  fourth 
day  he  departed.  It  was  an  strong  hour  the  hour 
of  his  departure  !  He  wrote  soon  after,  and  from 
that  time  our  correspondence  began  to  be  a  very 
diligent  one.  I  sincerely  believed  my  love  to  be 
friendship.  I  spoke  with  my  friends  of  nothing  but 
Klopstock,  and  showed  his  letters.  They  rallied 
at  me  and  said  I  was  in  love.  I  rallied  them  again, 
and  said  that  they  must  have  a  very  friendshiplcss 
heart,  if  they  had  no  idea  of  friendship  to  a  man  as 
well  as  to  a  woman.  Thus  it  continued  eight 
months,  in  which  time  my  friends  found  as  much 
love  in  Klosptock's  letters  as  in  me.  I  perceived 
it  likewise,  but  I  would  not  believe  it.  At  the 
last  Klopstock  said  plainly  that  he  loved,  and  1 
startled  as  for  a  wrong  thing.  I  answered,  that  it 
was  no  love,  but  friendship,  as  it  was  what  I  felt 
for  him  ;  we  had  not  seen  one  another  enough  to 
love.  (As  if  love  must  have  more  time  than  friend- 
ship:) This  was  sincerely  my  meaning,  and  I  had 
this  meaning  till  Klopstock  came  again  to  Ham- 


MRS    KLOPSTOCK.  •  201 

burg.  This  he  did  a  year  after  we  had  seen  one 
another  the  first  time.  We  saw,  we  were  friends,  we 
loved  ;  and  we  believed  that  we  loved  ;  and  a  short 
time  after  I  could  even  tell  Klopstock  that  I  loved. 
But  we  were  obliged  to  part  again  and  wait  two 
years  for  our  wedding.  My  mother  would  not  let 
marry  me  a  stranger.  I  could  marry  then  without 
her  consentment,  as  by  the  death  of  my  father  my 
fortune  depended  not  on  her ;  but  this  was  an 
horrible  idea  for  me ;  and  thank  heaven  that  I 
have  prevailed  by  prayers.  At  this  time,  knowing 
Klopstock,  she  loves  him  as  her  lifely  son,  and 
thanks  God  that  she  has  not  persisted.  We  mar- 
ried, and  I  am  the  happiest  wife  in  the  world.  In 
some  few  months  it  will  be  four  years  that  I  am  so 
happy,  and  still  I  dote  upon  Klopstock  as  if  he 
was  my  bridegroom. 

If  you  knew  my  husband,  you  would  not  won- 
der. If  you  knew  his  poem,  I  could  describe  him 
very  briefly,  in*saying  he  is  in  all  respects  what  he 
is  as  a  poet.  This  I  can  say  with  all  wifely  mod- 
esty   But  I  dare  not  speak  of  my  husband  ;  I 

am  all  raptures  when  I  do  it.  And  as  happy  as  I 
am  in  love,  so  happy  am  I  in  friendship,  in  my 
mother,  two  elder  sisters,  and  five  other  women. 
How  rich  I  am ! 

HAMBURG,  MAY  6,  175S. 

It  is  not  possible,  Sir,  to  tell  you  what  a  joy 
your  letters  give  me.  My  heart  is  very  able  to  es- 


202  MRS  KLOPSTOCK. 

teem  the  favor  that  you,  my  dear  Mr  Richardson, 
in  your  venerable  age,  are  so  condescending  good,  to 
answer  so  soon  the  letters  of  an  unknown  young 
woman,  who  has  no  other  merit  than  a  heart  full 
of  friendship. 

It  will  be  a  delightful  occupation  for  me,  to 
make  you  more  acquainted  with  my  husband's 
poem.  Nobody  can  do  it  better  than  I,  being  the 
person  that  knows  the  most  of  that  which  is  not  yet 
published;  being  always  present  at  the  birth  of  the 
young  verses,  which  begin  always  by  fragments 
here  and  there,  of  a  subject  of  which  his  soul  is 
just  then  filled.  He  has  many  great  fragments  of 
the  whole  work  ready.  You  may  think  that  per- 
sons who  love  as  we  do,  have  no  need  of  two  apart- 
ments ;  we  are  always  in  the  same.  I,  with  my 
little  work,  still  —  still  —  only  regarding  sometimes 
my  husband's  sweet  face,  which  is  so  venerable  at 
that  time  !  With  tears  of  devotion,  and  all  the 
sublimity  of  the  subject.  My  husband  reading  me 
his  young  verses  and  suffering  my  criticisms. 
Ten  books  are  published,  which  I  think  probably 
the  middle  of  the  whole.  I  will,  as  soon  as  I  can, 
translate  you  the  arguments  of  these  ten  books, 
and  what  besides  I  think  of  them.  The  verses  of 
the  poem  are  without  rhymes,  and  are  hexame- 
ters, which  sort  of  verses  my  husband  has  been  the 
first  to  introduce  in  our  language ;  we  being  still 
closely  attached  to  rhymes  and  iambics. 

I  am  very  glad,  Sir,  that  you  will  take  my  Eng- 


MRS    KLOPSTOCK.  203 

lish  as  it  is.  I  knew  very  well  that  it  may  not 
always  be  English,  but  I  thought  for  you  it  was  in- 
telligible. 

I  wish,  Sir,  I  could  fulfil  your  request  of  bring- 
ing you  acquainted  with  so  many  good  people  as 
you  think  of.  Though  I  love  my  friends  dearly, 
and  though  they  are  good,  I  have  however  much 
to  pardon,  except  in  the  single  Klopstock  alone. 
He  is  good,  really  good,  in  all  his  actions,  in  all 
the  foldings  of  his  heart.  I  know  him ;  and 
sometimes  I  think  if  we  knew  others  in  the  same 
manner,  the  better  we  should  find  them.  For  it 
may  be  that  an  action  displeases  us  which  would 
please  us,  if  we  knew  its  true  aim  and  whole  ex- 
tent. No  one  of  my  friends  is  so  happy  as  I  am  ; 
but  no  one  has  had  courage  to  marry  as  I  did  : 
They  have  married  —  as  people  marry  ;  and  they 
are  happy  —  as  people  are  happy. 

HAMBURG,  AUGUST  26,  1758. 
Why  think  you,  Sir,  that  I  answer  so  late  ?  I 
will  tell  you  my  reasons.  Have  not  you  guessed 
that  I,  summing  up  all  my  happinesses,  and  not 
speaking  of  children,  had  none?  Yes,  Sir,  this 
has  been  my  only  wish  ungratified  for  these  four 
years.  But  thanks,  thanks  to  God  !  I  am  in  full 
hope  to  be  a  mother  in  the  month  of  November. 
The  little  preparations  for  my  child  (and  they  are 
so  dear  to  me)  have  taken  so  much  time,  that  I 
could  not  answer  your  letter,  nor  give  you  the 


204  MRS   KLOPSTOCK. 

promised  scenes  of  the  Messiah.  This  is  likewise 
the  reason  wherefore  I  am  still  here ;  for  properly 
we  dwell  in  Copenhagen.  Our  staying  here  is 
only  on  a  visit  (but  a  long  one)  which  we  pay  my 
family.  My  husband  has  been  obliged  to  make  a 
little  visit  alone  to  Copenhagen,  I  not  being  able  to 
travel  yet.  He  is  yet  absent  —  a  cloud  over  my 
happiness  !  He  will  soon  return  —  But  what  does 
that  help  1  he  is  yet  equally  absent !  We  write  to 
each  other  every  post  —  but  what  are  letters  to 
presence  ?  But  I  will  speak  no  more  of  this  little 
cloud  ;  I  will  only  tell  my  happiness  !  But  I  can- 
not tell  how  I  rejoice !  A  son  of  my  dear  Klop- 
stock  !  Oh,  when  shall  I  have  him !  It  is  long 
since  I  made  the  remark  that  the  children  of  ge- 
niuses are  not  geniuses.  No  children  at  all,  bad 
sons,  or,  at  the  most,  lovely  daughters,  like  you 
and  Milton.  But  a  daughter  or  a  son,  only  with  a 
good  heart,  without  genius,  I  will  nevertheless  love 
dearly. 

This  is  no  letter,  but  only  a  newspaper  of  your 
Hamburg  daughter.  When  I  have  my  husband 
and  my  child,  I  will  write  you  more,  (if  God  gives 
me  health  and  life.)  You  will  think  that  I  shall 
be  not  a  mother  only,  but  a  nurse  also  ;  though 
the  latter  (thank  God  !  that  the  former  is  not  so  too) 
is  quite  against  fashion  and  good  manners,  and 
though  nobody  can  think  it  possible  to  be  always 
with  the  child  at  home.  M.  KLOPSTOCK. 


MRS   KLOPSTOCK.  205 

Alas  !  the  pleasant  hopes  of  her  pure  and  loving 
heart  were  not  to  be  realized  in  this  world.  She 
did  not  live  to  bless  her  babe.  The  angels  took 
them  both  to  a  heavenly  home.  Were  it  not  for  a 
belief  in  another  existence,  how  severe  and  mys- 
terious would  appear  the  dispensations  of  Provi- 
dence ! 

In  a  letter  to  a  friend,  Klopstock  gives  an  ac- 
count of  the  tender  farewell  they  took  of  each 
other,  under  circumstances  so  peculiarly  agonizing. 
After  having  prayed  with  her  for  a  long  time,  he 
said,  as  he  bent  over  her,  "Be  my  guardian  angel, 
if  God  permits."  "  You  have  ever  been  mine," 
she  replied.  And  when  with  stifled  voice  he  again 
repeated  "  If  God  permits,  be  my  guardian  angel !  " 
she  fixed  her  eyes  upon  him  full  of  love,  and  said, 
"  Ah,  who  would  not  be  your  guardian  angel !" 

Just  before  she  died,  she  said,  with  the  se- 
rene smile  of  an  angel,  "  My  love,  you  will  follow 
me  !" 

*         *          *  #          *         *  * 

She    was    buried  at  Ottensen,    in   the  neigh- 

'  G 

borhood  of  Hamburg.  Klopstock  requested  her 
sisters  to  plant  two  trees  by  the  grave,  and  her 
intimate  friend  promised  to  cover  it  with  wild 
flowers. 

On  the  top  of  the  grave-stone  were  carved  two 
sheaves  of  wheat,  one  reclining  upon  the  other  : 
under  which  was  written  : 


206  MRS  KLOPSTOCI.:. 

Seed  sown  by  God 
To  ripen  in  the  Day  of  Harvest 

MARGARETTA  KLOPSTOCK: 

Waits  where  death  is  not, 
For  her  friend,  her  lover,  her  husband. 

Whom  she  so  much  loves, 

And  by  whom  she  is  so  much  beloved ! 

But  we  shall  all  rise  from  this  grave  ; 

Thou,  my  Klopstock,  and  1, 

And  our  Son, 

For  whom  I  died  : 

To  worship  Him, 

Who  died,  and  was  buried, 

And  is  risen. 

She  was  born  March  19th,  1728 ; 

Married,  June  10th,  1754, 

And  died  November  28th,  1758. 

Her  Son  sleeps  in  her  arms. 

After  her  death  her  husband  published  a  small 
volume  of  her  writings,  to  which  is  prefixed  an  af- 
fectionate sketch  of  her  character,  some  letters 
that  passed  between  them  during  their  brief  sep- 
aration, and  letters  from  Klopstock  to  his  friends 
giving  an  account  of  her  last  illness. 

Their  letters  to  each  other  are  short,  but  very 
fervent  —  full  of  romantic  tenderness,  which  a 
heartless  world  envies  while  it  scorns.  At  one 
time  she  writes,  "  Ah,  when  will  you  come  home  ! 
It  is  wearisome,  wearisome,  living  without  you,  to 
one  who  has  lived  with  you." 


MRS    KLOPSTOCK.  207 

Again  she  writes,  "  God  be  thanked  !  I  have 
received  your  letter.  What  a  joy  it  was  to  me  ! 
What  will  it  be  when  you  come!  I  know  not 
what  I  write,  I  am  so  full  of  joy.  I  received  your 
letter  at  table;  I  ate  no  more,  as  you  may  suppose. 
I  was  half  beside  myself,  the  tears  started  to  my 
eyes.  I  went  to  my  chamber.  I  could  thank  God 
only  with  my  tears.  But  He  understands  our  tears 
so  well !  " 

In  one  of  his  letters  to  her,  he  writes,  "  I  know 
how  much  you  think  of  me,  my  best,  and  dearest 
wife  ;  I  know  it  by  my  own  feelings.  Beloved 
Meta,  how  I  do  long  to  see  you  !  I  fold  thee  fast 
to  my  heart." 

These  letters,  so  full  of  glowing  expressions 
warm  from  the  heart,  were  written  when  Klopstock 
had  been  united  to  his  Meta*  more  than  four  years 
—  one  of  the  many  beautiful  proofs  that  true  love 
grows  deeper  and  stronger  with  time  ! 

Klopstock  rejoined  his  wife,  at  Hamburg,  the  last 
of  September,  after  an  absence  of  about'  seven 
weeks. 

In  less  than  two  months  after  his  return,  she 
went  from  him,  to  be  no  more  his  companion  in 
this  vale  of  tears. 

Her  Posthumous  Works  consist  of  Letters  from 
the  Dead  to  the  Living,  a  tragedy  called  the  Death 
of  Abel,  and  several  smaller  pieces.  They  were 

*  Meta  is  the  contraction  of  Margaretta. 


208  MRS    KLOPSTOCK. 

written  entirely  for  her  own  amusement,  without 
the  slightest  idea  of  their  ever  being  published. 
Her  husband  says  she  blushed,  and  was  very  much 
embarrassed,  whenever  he  found  her  writino-  and 

t  O  7 

expressed  a  wish  to  see  what  she  had  been  doing. 
He  informs  us  that  her  taste  was  correct,  and  highly 
cultivated,  and  that  her  criticisms  upon  his  poetry 
were  always  extremely  apt  and  judicious.  He  says 
he  knew  instantly  by  her  countenance,  whether  his 
thoughts  pleased  her ;  and  so  perfect  was  their 
sympathy,  that  their  souls  could  hold  delightful 
communion  almost  without  the  aid  of  language. 

Klopstock  possessed  one  of  "the  common  attri- 
butes of  great  genius  in  an  eminent  degree ;  he 
had  the  simplicity  and  frankness  of  a  little  child. 
A  perpetual  cheerfulness,  almost  amounting  to 
gayety,  formed  a  pleasing  contrast  to  the  serious- 
ness of  his  writings.  The  pleasure  he  took  in  his 
own  reputation  sometimes  excited  a  smile ;  but  his 
was  a  kind  of  vanity  that  is  never  very  offensive  — 
it  was  instantly  felt  to  be  the  childish  ingenuous- 
ness of  a  heart  too  guileless  to  conceal  any  of  its 
feelings. 

He  died  March  14,  1S03,  when  he  had  nearly 
finished  his  seventyninth  year.  He  lived  unmar- 
ried till  a  few  years  before  his  death,  when  he  al- 
lowed the  marriage  ceremony  to  be  performed  be- 
tween him  and  a  kinswoman  of  his  wife,  who  had 
attended  upon  him  faithfully  during  the  feebleness 
and  sufferings  incident  to  advancing  years ;  he  had 


MRS    KLOPSTOCK.  209 

no  fortune  to  bequeath  her,  and  he  took  this  step  in 
order  to  give  her  a  legal  claim  to  his  pensions. 

During  the  latter  part  of  his  life,  Klopstock  re- 
sided at  Hamburg.  According  to  the  wish  he  had 
always  expressed,  he  was  buried  by  the  side  of  his 
beloved  Meta. 

His  funeral  was  conducted  with  almost  princely 
pomp,  and  every  possible  honor  was  paid  to  his 
memory. 

A  writer  in  the  Biographie  Universelle,  says  of 
Klopstock,  "  Everything  conspired  in  his  works  to 
excite  enthusiasm  ;  elevation  of  ideas  ;  beauty  and 
boldness  of  imagery  ;  perfect  pictures  of  nature  ; 
truth  and  profundity  of  sentiment ;  and  harmoni- 
ous measure.  As  long  as  the  German  language 
lasts,  he  will  be  read  with  admiration." 


14 


MRS     W I E  L  A  N  D  , 

WIFE    OF    CHRISTOPHER     MARTIN     WIELAND. 

THE  celebrated  Wieland  was  son  of  a  Lu- 
theran clergyman.  He  was  born  at  Biberach  in 
Swabia,  in  1733.  His  genius  began  to  unfold  it- 
self at  an  early  age.  and  excited  expectations  among 
his  friends,  which  were  afterwards  more  than  real- 
ized. 

He  was  scarcely  eighteen  years  old,  when  he 
became  enthsiastically  in  love  with  Sophia  von 
Gutterman,  a  second  cousin,  who  visited  his  fath- 
er's house.  The  young  lady,  being  preengaged, 
and  regarding  her  interesting  relative  as  a  mere 
youth,  allowed  an  intimacy,  which  her  beauty  and 
intellect  made  very  dangerous  to  his  peace.  So- 
phia von  Gutterman  afterwards  became  Madame 
La  Roche  ;  and  Wieland's  early  passion  for  her 
settled  down  into  a  calm  and  enduring  friendship 

Some  of  the  early  writings  of  Wieland  attracted 
the  attention  of  the  literary  patriarch,  Bodmer  ; 
and  ,he  invited  the  young  genius  to  visit  him 
at  his  romantic  residence  near  Zurich.  The 
invitation  was  accepted  in  1752,  and  Wieland 


MRS    W1ELAND.  211 

occupied  the  apartment,  which  had  been   assigned 
to  Klopstock  the  year  preceding. 

The  works  of  Wieland  at  this  period,  and  for 
several  years  afterward,  breathed  the  religious  faith 
and  strict  morality,  which  he  had  imbibed  from  his 
father.  But  his  relative  La  Roche,  was  secretary 
to  Count  Stadion,  a  diplomatist  and  courtier,  who 
in  1763  retired  from  public  life  to  his  princely 
mansion  at  Warthausen,  about  three  miles  from 
Biberach  ;  and  in  this  family  Wieland  became  a 
favorite.  Here  he  first  caught  the  tone  and  man- 
ners of  the  great  world  ;  and  by  conforming  to 
its  selfish  maxims,  he  soon  became  blind  to  that 
heavenly  light,  which  the  world  calls  darkness,  be- 
cause "  it  comprehendeth  it  not."  His  simplicity 
of  heart  and  willingness  to  believe  were  ridiculed 
as  mystical  piety  ;  and  his  enthusiasm  was  chilled 
by  the  distrust  and  sarcasm  of  an  experienced  poli- 
tician. Wieland's  mind,  thus  prepared,  readily 
imbibed  the  licentious  philosophy  of  France  which 
then  began  to  tinge  the  literature  of  Europe.  His 
later  writings,  although  they  brought  him  the  rich- 
est reward  of  fame,  furnish  a  painful  proof  that 
"  the  tree  of  knowledge  is  not  the  tree  of  life." 

But  our  business  is  principally  with  his  domestic 
character.  In  the  autumn  of  17(55  he  married 
Anna  Dorothea  Hillenbrandt,  the  daughter  of  a 
merchant  at  Augsburg.  She  was  not  a  woman  of 
uncommon  intellect  ;  it  is  supposed  that  she  knew 
very  little  about  her  husband's  writings,  although 
she  looked  up  to  him  with  respect  and  admiration 


212  MRS    WIELAND. 

almost  amounting  to  worship.  She  had  a  serene 
temper,  and  a  most  affectionate  heart.  Wieland 
was  impetuous,  and  trifles  often  provoked  him  to 
angry  eloquence.  On  these  occasions,  her  gentle- 
ness and  patience  always  won  the  victory,  and 
Wieland  soon  laughed  at  his  own  ravings.  It  is 
said  that  some  of  his  most  powerful  expressions 
were  struck  out  in  these  transports  of  passion. 

In  1769,  Wieland  was  appointed  Professor  of  Law 
at  the  University  of  Erfurt,  with  the  title  of  privy 
counsellor ;  an  honor  rarely  bestowed  upon  so 
young  a  man.  He  found  the  university  in  a  state 
of  decay  ;  but  his  eloquent  lectures  soon  doubled 
the  number  of  students.  He  complained  much  of 
the  dulness  of  society.  The  only  house  that  col- 
lected all  the  wit  and  fashion  of  Erfurt  was  of  a 
licentious  character  ;  and  Wieland,  notwithstanding 
the  grossness  of  some  of  his  writings,  was  reluctant 
to  bring  his  wife  and  children,  and  his  young  pupil 
La  Roche,  within  the  polluted  atmosphere. 

In  1758,  Wieland  was  appointed  tutor  to  the 
prince,  by  the  Duchess  Dowager,  Anna  Amalia  ; 
at  the  same  time,  he  received  the  title  of  Aulic 
Counsellor  to  the  Duke  of  Saxe  Weimar,  and  the 
Elector  of  Mentz. 

In  consequence  of  these  honors,  he  removed 
from  Erfurt  to  Weimar,  which  soon  became  re- 
nowned as  the  "  Athens  of  Germany."  The  splen- 
did constellation  of  genius,  drawn  thither  by  the 
munificent  patronage  of  the  reigning  family,  ren- 
dered the  title  as  just  as  it  was  flattering. 


MRS    VV1ELAN1).  213 

The  theatre  was  conducted  at  the  expense  of  the 
state;  tin;  performers  were  selected  with  great 
care ;  the  music  was  the  very  best  that  could  be 
procured  ;  and  costumes  and  scenery  were  critically 
exact;  the  public,  as  in  ancient  Greece  and  Rome, 
were  admitted  gratuitously.  The  picturesque 
walks  of  the  ducal  grounds  were  likewise  opened 
to  the  public.  Here  genius,  in  all  its  various 
manifestations  of  power,  found  patronage  and 
honor.  Gothe,  Schiller,  and  Wieland,  were  the 
master  spirits ;  but  a  crowd  of  minor  authors  were 
attracted  by  the  intellectual  enchantments  of  the 
place.  The  celebrated  Herder  was  the  bishop  of 
this  little  metropolis,  and  the  first  masters  of  music 
and  the  fine  arts  were  employed  in  his  cathedral. 

In  this  state  of  intellectual  luxury  Wieland  lived 
the  greater  part  of  his  life  ;  and  here  he  wrote 
many  of  his  best  productions,  among  which  was  the 
widely  celebrated  Obcron,  published  in  1780. 

But  in  all  the  plenitude  of  his  fame,  his  heart 
seems  to  have  been  in  his  family.  In  1782,  he 
thus  writes  to  Gleim  :  "  How  gladly  would  I  ac- 
cept your  invitation,  and  fly  to  you,  and  shake 
you  by  both  hands,  and  talk  over  with  you  the  days 
of  our  youth,  and  sun  ourselves  afresh  in  the  au- 
rora of  literature :  but  a  thousand  silken  bands 
bind  me  to  Weimar.  I  am  rooted  into  the  ground 
here,  and  occupations  that  admit  no  delay  press 
around  me.  Besides,  how  can  I  drag  au'.iy  my 
wife  from  her  nine  children,  when  the  joint  ages 
of  the  six  youngest  do  not  amount  to  twenty 


214  MRS    WIELAND. 

years  ?  Our  house  is  a  little  world,  in  which  our 
presence  and  government  cannot  be  spared.  But 
you,  a  single  man,  might  come  hither,  and  amuse 
yourself  with  seeing  these  little  elves  creep,  one 
after  another,  out  of  their  lurking  holes." 

In  a  letter  to  Sophia  de  la  Roche,  he  says : 
"  My  sweetest  hours  are  those  in  which  I  see  about 
me,  in  all  their  glee  of  childhood,  my  whole  posse 
of  little  half-way  things  between  apes  and  angels." 

In  a  letter  written  1787,  he  observes:  "My 
wife  is  a  model  of  every  feminine  and  domestic 
virtue;  free  from  the  usual  foibles  of  her  sex,  with 
a  head  unbiassed  by  prejudices,  and  a  moral  char- 
acter that  would  do  honor  to  a  saint.  During  the 
two-and-twenty  years  I  have  lived  with  her,  I  have 
never  for  one  moment  wished  myself  unmarried. 
Her  existence  is  so  intimately  connected  with  my 
own,  that  I  cannot  be  absent  from  her  a  week 
without  experiencing  feelings  similar  to  the  home- 
sickness of  the  Swiss.  Of  our  fourteen  children, 
nine  are  living;  all  amiable,  and  all  healthy  in 
body  and  mind.  They  and  their  mother  form  the 
happiness  of  my  life." 

At  another  time  he  says :  "  I  experience  more 
and  more  that  all  true  human  happiness  lies  within 
the  charmed  circle  of  married  domestic  life.  I 
become  continually  more  and  more  the  man,  and 
in  that  proportion  happier  and  better.  Labor  is  a 
pleasure  to  me,  because  I  am  working  for  my 
children;  and  I  am  internally  convinced  that  my 
calm  trust  in  the  hand  which  weaves  the  web  of 
our  destinies  will  not  disappoint  me  or  mine." 


MRS    WIELAND.  215 

If  fame  brings  its  pleasures,  they  never  come 
unattended  by  inconveniences.  All  the  distin- 
guished literati,  princes,  and  nobles,  who  were 
travelling,  were  sure  to  visit  Weimar,  and  made 
a  point  of  seeing  Wieland;  forgetting  that  his 
perpetual  sacrifice  of  ease  and  quiet  might  be  a 
higher  price  than  he  chose  to  pay  for  the  honor  of 
their  company. 

This  circumstance  made  Wieland  anxious  for 
retirement.  His  oldest  son  had  a  taste  for  agricul- 
ture, and  as  his  favorite  daughter  (who  married  a 
son  of  the  poet  Gesner)  resided  in  Switzerland,  he 
resolved  to  purchase  a  farm  at  Osmanstadt,  in  the 
vicinity  of  Zurich.  He  removed  in  1798 ;  at 
which  time  his  family  consisted  of  himself  and  wife, 
three  sons,  two  unmarried  daughters,  two  widowed 
daughters,  and  four  grand-children.  The  artists 
of  Weimar  volunteered  their  drawings  for  the  ne- 
cessary alterations  at  Osmanstadt,  and  the  reigning 
Duke  sent  from  his  own  gardens  the  statue  of  a 
siren,  to  decorate  the  fountain  in  the  court-yard. 
To  the  day  of  his  death,  he  received  a  thousand 
dollars  per  annum  from  his  princely  pupil. 

In  1799,  Sophia  de  la  Roche,  now  a  widow, 
visited  Wieland  at  his  new  residence,  and  gave  an 
interesting  account  of  his  manner  of  life,  in  one  of 
her  books,  entitled  "  Schattenrisse  ineiner  Errin- 
nerungen." 

She  says  :  "  On  the  fifteenth  of  July,  1799,  after 
a  separation  of  almost  thirty  years,  T  reached  Wie- 
land's  house  at  evening,  and  again  embraced  the 


216  MRS    WIELAND- 

worthy  friend  of  my  youth,  his  wife,  and  four  of  his 
daughters.  One  of  my  six  grand-daughters  accom- 
panied me,  and  being  fatigued  we  retired  early  to 
rest :  but  I  could  not  sleep.  The  tide  of  feelings  and 
recollections  rushed  over  me  too  vehemently  :  still 
I  was  in  his  house,  and  I  was  happy.  1  heard 
him,  before  he  went  to  bed,  playing  on  his  harpsi- 
chord, according  to  his  custom ;  he  was  rehears- 
ing a  Swiss  tune,  which  we  had  admired  together 
at  Biberach. 

"  The  breakfast  had  an  attractive  neatness  and 
simplicity ;  no  servant  attended :  one  daughter 
brought  a  glass  of  buttermilk  ;  another  a  plate  of 
cherries,  the  toasted  bread,  and  the  home-made 
butter  ;  and  the  young  man  presented  to  my  Julia 
a  handful  of  roses  :  we  had  seen  him  while  we 
were  rising,  employed  in  mowing  the  grass-plot  in 
the  garden.  During  the  forenoon,  Mrs  Wieland 
led  me  to  the  dairy  and  the  several  objects  of  her 
superintendence,  and  showed  me  the  delicate  pro- 
duce of  her  spinning-wheel.  Wieland  himself 
conducted  ine  to  see  his  new  shorn  flock,  and  told 
me  what  crops  were  to  succeed  the  fragrant  fields 
of  bean  and  clover  which  I  then  beheld. 

"  He  took  me  to  spend  a  day  with  the  Dowager 
Duchess,  at  her  residence  in  Tieffurt.  Go'the  was 
of  the  party,  and  agreed  to  dine  with  us  next  day 
at  Osmanstadt.  Then,  indeed,  I  sat  in  a  temple 
of  the  Gods !  while  at  the  table,  which  was  not 
additionally  provided,  I  listened  to  these  two  pa- 
triarchs  of  German  literature  addressing  each 


MRS    WIELAND.  217 

other  with  the  friendly  tlwu  and  thee  *  of  the  an- 
cients, and  discussing,  with  polished  frankness,  the 
men,  and  books,  and  events  of  the  times. 

"  A  bust  of  Count  Stadion  ornamented  the  man- 
telpiece ;  Gothe  asked  me  whether  it  were  a  good 
likeness,  analyzed  its  expression,  and  was  almost 
immediately  on  a  friendly  fopting  with  me,  as  if  he 
too  had  been  acquainted  with  us  under  that  roof. 
I  repeated  to  him  an  observation  I  had  heard  Wie- 
land  make  to  the  old  Count,  that  all  great  men  in 
the  evening  of  life  sought  a  still  retirement  in  the 
lap  of  nature. 

"  When  the  ladies  withdrew  to  walk  in  the  alley 
of  lime-trees,  Herder's  daughter  came  to  join  us. 

"  Another  of  the  delightful  days  I  passed  here 
was  that  on  which  the  Duchess  Amalia,  in  all  her 
affability,  came  to  see  us,  and,  leaning  on  Wieland's 
arm,  walked  up  and  down  the  garden  with  us.  On 
that  same  day,  Herder  and  his  wife  joined  our  party 
at  table,  and  brought  with  them  John  Paul  Rich- 
ter,  a  comparatively  young  man,  of  whose  genius 
high  opinions  were  entertained.  In  the  evening, 
when  our  guests  had  retired,  Wieland  read  to  us  a 
a  terrific  dream  by  this  author. 

"  The  day  on  which  Wieland's  name  was  inserted 

*  A  respectful  address  in  German  is  put  in  the  third  per- 
son instead  of  the  f-econd.  This  custom  has  sometimes  been 
carried  to  a  ridiculous  extent  where  great  personages  were 
concerned.  "Have  his  Highness  gone  this  way  ?"  inquir- 
ed a  gentleman  ot  a  group  of  peasants.  The  answer  was, 
"  ISo,  sir;  hut  their  poodle  have  just  passed  :  "  thus  investing 
even  the  dog  with  the  plurality  belonging  to  rank. 


218  MRS    W1ELAND. 

in  the  manorial  books  was  an  interesting  one.  He 
gave  a  rural  feast  to  his  neighbors  on  becoming  a 
fellow  tenant,  his  property  being  copy-hold. 

"  The  villagers  spread  themselves  over  the  green, 
took  their  refreshments  in  the  open  air,  shook 
Wieland  and  his  sons  by  the  hand,  and  prayed  God 
to  bless  him  and  his  :  they  had  music  and  a  dance, 
in  which  we  joined,  and  sang  and  rejoiced  until 
twilight.  May  his  felicity  be  perpetual !  he  so 
thoroughly  deserves  it." 

But  perpetual  felicity  is  not  the  lot  of  mortals. 
Wieland's  rural  speculation  was  unfortunate. 
The  crops  did  not  equal  his  hopes  ;  the  movements 
of  armies  rendered  his  property  insecure,  and  les- 
sened its  value  ;  and,  like  most  gentlemen  farmers, 
he  soon  became  involved  in  pecuniary  embarrass- 
ments. To  these  troubles  a  more  grievous  afflic- 
tion was  added  in  1801,  by  the  death  of  his  wife. 
She  was  buried  at  the  bottom  of  the  garden,  in  a 
family  tomb  intended  to  inclose  his  own  remains. 

Osmantium*  now  became  a  dreary  residence  to 
Wieland,  and  he  resolved  to  return  to  Weimer. 
He  thus  writes  to  Bodmer,  early  in  1803  : 

"  Since  the  death  of  my  wife,  I  have  lost  the 
love  of  existence  ;  and  the  lustre  which  once  shone 
on  all  things  around  me  is  dimmed.  I  would  fain 
withdraw  my  attention  from  a  painful  feeling,  which 
especially  seizes  on  me  whenever  I  lie  down  or  get 
up  :  but  memory  will  be  busy.  Never  since  I  was 
born  did  I  love  anything  so  much  as  I  loved  my 

*  The  name  of  the  estate. 


MRS    WIELAND.  219 

wife.  If  I  but  knew  she  was  in  the  room,  or  if  at 
times  she  stepped  in  and  said  a  word  or  two,  that 
was  enough  —  my  guardian  angel  had  been  near  : 
—  but  since  she  has  been  gone,  my  very  labors  fall 
off  in  spirit,  and  my  writings  please  me  no  longer. 
Why  could  we  not,  like  Philemon  and  Baucis,  have 
died  on  one  day  ?  " 

When  it  was  known  that  Wieland  wished  to  re- 
turn to  Weimar,  the  Duke  provided  for  him  a  house, 
opening  into  the  grounds  of  the  Duchess  Dowager, 
and  commanding  a  noble  prospect.  It  was  an- 
nounced that  henceforth  he  was  to  form  one  of  the 
ducal  household;  and  a  place  was  assigned  to  him 
in  the  state-box  at  the  theatre.  After  six  years  of 
absence,  Father  Wieland  (as  the  literary  patriarch 
was  then  called)  was  everywhere  hailed  with  a  loud 
burst  of  welcome.  Herder,  Schiller,  and  other 
great  minds,  flocked  around  him ;  and  Gothe 
varied  a  decoration  of  his  Torquato  Tasso,  in  order 
to  give  an  opportunity  for  a  plaudit  of  congratula- 
tion when  Wieland  first  appeared  at  the  theatre. 

There  is  something  extremely  beautiful  in  such 
heartfelt  tributes  to  intellect.  Mcthinks  the  united 
gratitude  and  admiration  of  so  many  minds  acting 
upon  one  must  have  an  electric  power,  strong 
enough  to  elicit  sparks  of  genius  even  from  the 
dullest  materials.  It  is  indeed  a  pity  that  spon- 
taneous applause  has  so  often  been  bestowed  upon 
the  highly-gifted  corruptors  of  mankind. 

Wieland  lived  long  enough  to  survive  several  of 
his  most  valued  friends.  Herder,  and  the  Duchess 
Amalia  died  before  him. 


220  MRS    WIELAND. 

The  estate  at  Osmanstadt  had  passed  into  the 
hands  of  one  of  his  friends  ;  and  it  was  agreed  that 
his  wish  of  being  buried  by  the  side  of  his  wife 
should  be  realized. 

The  court-sculptor  undertook  to  erect  a  monu- 
ment with  suitable  decorations.  On  one  side  was 
recorded  the  death  of  Anna  Dorothea  Wieland, 
beneath  two  intertwined  hands,  the  emblem  of 
conjugal  affection ;  on  the  other  side  a  space 
was  left  for  the  record  of  Wieland's  death,  above 
which  was  sculptured  a  winged  lyre  and  a  star. 
Wieland  himself  wrote  a  simple  epitaph,  which 
signified. 

"  In  life  they  were  united  by  lovo, 
And  here  they  repose  together  in  death." 

AVieland  died  in  January,  1813.  When  he 
thought  his  end  was  approaching,  he  began  to  re- 
peat his  own  translation  of  Hamlet's  Soliloquy; 
but  at  the  words  "  To  die,"  "  to  sleep,"  his  doubt- 
ing spirit  passed. 

His  body  lay  in  state  several  days,  on  cushions 
of  blue  silk,  in  a  richly  gilded  coffin.  A  white 
shroud  enveloped  the  limbs  ;  the  black  velvet  calotte 
still  remained  on  his  head,  around  which  was 
braided  a  wreath  of  laurel ;  a  copy  of  his  Obcron 
and  Musarion  formed  his  pillow.  A  great  deal  of 
pomp  attended  the  removal  of  the  body  to  Osman- 
stadt. ' 

Wieland,  in  his  time,  was  at  the  head  of  the 
classic  school  of  German  writers.  His  imagination 
luxuriated  in  the  mythology  of  the  ancients.  Per- 


MRS    WIELAND.  221 

haps  his  early  impressions  still  maintained  an  influ- 
ence of  which  he  was  unconscious ;  and  in  this 
poetic  form  his  affections  might  have  retained  some 
belief  in  supernatural  agency,  though  false  philoso- 
phy had  driven  it  from  his  understanding.* 


I'd  rather  be 


A  Pagan,   suckled  in  a  creed  outworn  ; 
So  might  I,  standing  on  this  pleasant  lea, 
Have  glimpses  that  would  make  me  lessjorlorn  ; 
Have  sight  of  Proteus  coming  from  the  sea  ; 
Or  hear  old  Triton  blow  his  wreathed  horn." 

Wordsiuorth. 


MRS     HUBER, 

WIFE    OF    FRANCOIS    HUBER. 

FRANCIS  HUBER  was  born  at  Geneva  on  the  2d  of 
July,  1750,  of  a  highly  respectable  family,  remark- 
able for  intelligence.  His  father  was  distinguished 
for  wit  and  originality  in  conversation,  and  for  a 
cultivated  taste  in  the  fine  arts.  Voltaire  particu- 
larly delighted  in  his  company,  on  account  of  the 
freshness  and  brilliancy  of  his  mind,  and  his  skill  in 
music.  He  excelled  in  pictures  of  game,  and 
wrote  an  interesting  work  on  the  flight  of  birds  of 
prey.  His  son  inherited  his  taste  and  talent. 

Study  by  day,  and  romance  reading  during  the 
night,  impaired  his  health,  and  weakened  his  sight. 
When  he  was  fifteen  years  old,  the  physicians 
advised  entire  freedom  from  all  literary  occupation. 
For  this  purpose,  he  went  to  reside  in  a  village 
near  Paris,  where  he  followed  the  plough,  and  was 
for  the  time,  a  real  farmer.  Here  he  acquired  a 
great  fondness  for  rural  life,  and  became  strongly 
attached  to  the  kind  and  worthy  peasants  among 
whom  he  resided.  His  health  was  restored,  but 
with  the  prospect  of  approaching  blindness. 


MRS    HUBER.  223 

He  had,  however  sufficiently  good  eyes  to  see 
and  love  Maria  Aime'e  Lullin,  a  young  lady  who 
had  been  his  companion  at  dancing-school.  They 
Joved,  as  warm  young  hearts  will  love,  and  dreamed 
of  no  possibility  of  separation.  M.  Lullin  regarded 
the  increasing  probability  of  Huber's  blindness,  a 
sufficient  reason  for  breaking  up  the  connexion ; 
but  the  more  this  misfortune  became  certain,  the 
more  Maria  determined  not  1o  abandon  her  lover. 
She  made  no  resistance  to  the  will  of  her  father, 
but  quietly  waited  until  she  had  attained  a  lawful 
age  to  act  for  herself. 

Poor  Huber,  fearful  of  losing  his  precious  prize, 
tried  to  conceal  from  the  world,  and  even  from  him- 
self, that  an  entire  deprivation  of  sight  was  his  in- 
evitable lot ;  but  total  darkness  came  upon  him, 
and  he  could  no  longer  deny  that  the  case  was 
hopeless.  The  affliction  was  made  doubly  keen 
by  fears  that  Maria  would  desert  him;  but  he 
might  have  trusted  the  strength  of  a  woman's  heart 
—  Miss  Lullin  resisted  the  persuasions  and  perse- 
cutions of  her  family,  and  as  soon  as  she  was  twenty- 
five  years  old,  she  led  to  the  altar  the  blind  object  of 
her  youthful  affections.  The  generous  girl  had 
loved  him  in  his  brilliant  days  of  youth  and  gnyety, 
and  she  would  not  forsake  him  when  a  thick  veil 
fell  forever  between  him  and  the  glories  of  the 
external  world.  There  is  something  exceedingly 
beautiful  and  affecting  in  this  union.  Those  who 
witnessed  it,  at  once  felt  a  strong  internal  con- 
viction that  the  blessing  of  God  would  rest  on  that 
gentle  and  heroic  wife. 


224  MRS    HUBER. 

Voltaire  often  alluded  to  the  circumstance  in  his 
correspondence,  and  it  forms  an  episode  in  Madame 
de  StaeTs  Delphine. 

Mrs  Huber  had  no  reason  to  regret  the  disin- 
terested step  she  had  taken.  Providence  provides 
for  those  who  trust  in  him. 

lluber's  active  and  brilliant  mind  overcame  the 
impediments  occasioned  by  loss  of  vision.  His 
attention  was  drawn  to  the  history  of  bees  ;  and  by 
the  assistance  of  his  wife  and  son,  he  observed  their 
habits  so  closely,  that  he  soon  became  one  of  the 
most  distinguished  naturalists  in  Europe.  His 
very  blindness  added  to  his  celebrity ;  for  men 
naturally  admire  intellectual  strength  overcoming 
physical  obstructions.  The.  musical  talents,  which 
-in  youth  had  made  Huber  a  favorite  guest,  now 
enlivened  his  domestic  fireside.  He  enjoyed  ex- 
ercise in  the  open  air,  and  when  his  beloved  wife 
was  unable  to  accompany  him,  he  took  a  solitary 
ramble,  guided  by  threads,  which  he  had  caused  to 
be  stretched  in  the  neighboring  walks.  lie  was 
amiable  and  benevolent,  and  all  who  approached 
him  were  inspired  with  love  and  respect. 

Even  great  success  came  to  him  unattended  by 
its  usual  evils ;  for  the  most  envious  did  not  ven- 
ture to  detract  from  the  merits  of  a  kind-hearted 
man,  suffering  under  one  of  the  greatest  of  human 
deprivations. 

Notwithstanding  the  loss  of  his  eyes,  lluber's 
countenance  was  the  very  sun-dial  of  his  soul  — 
expressing  every  ray  of  thought  and  every  shade  of 


MRS    HUB  Ell.  225 

feeling.  The  sound  of  his  voice  was  solemn  and 
impressive.  A  gentleman,  who  saw  him  for  a  few 
hours,  said  "  I  no  longer  wonder  that  young  people 
are  so  prone  to  believe  the  hlind  supernaturally 
inspired." 

During  forty  years  of  happy  union,  Mrs  Huber 
proved  herself  worthy  of  sucli  a  husband's  love. 
He  was  the  object  of  her  kindest,  and  most  unre- 
mitting attention.  She  read  to  him,  she  wrote  for 
him,  she  walked  with  him,  she  watched  his  bees 
for  him ;  in  a  word,  her  eyes  and  her  heart  were 
wholly  devoted  to  his  service. 

Huber's  affection  for  her  was  only  equalled  by 
his  respect.  Alluding  to  her  low  stature,  he  used 
to  say  "  mens  magna  in  corporc  pari'O  "  (a  great 
soul  in  a  small  body]. 

He  used  to  say,  "  While  she  lived,  I  was  not 
sensible  of  the  misfortune  of  being  blind." 

His  children,  inspired  by  their  mother's  example, 
attended  upon  him  with  the  most  devoted  affection. 
His  son,  Pierre  Huber,  who  himself  became  fa- 
mous for  his  history  of  the  economy  of  ants,  was  a 
valuable  assistant  and  beloved  companion.  He  made 
a  set  of  raised  types,  with  which  his  father  could 
amuse  himself,  by  printing  letters  to  his  friends. 
After  the  death  of  his  wife,  Huber  lived  with  a 
married  daughter  at  Lausanne. 

Loving  and  beloved,  he  closed  his  calm  and  use- 
ful life  at  the  age  of  eightyone.     In  one  of  his  last 
letters  to  a  friend,  he  says, «'  Resignation  and  seren- 
ity are  blessings  which  have  not  been  denied  me." 
15 


QUEEN     MARY, 

WIFE     OF    \V  I  L  L  I  A  M    III. 

MARY,  the  daughter  of  James  the  Second,  was 
a  most  affectionate  wife  to  William  Prince  of  Or- 
ange. 

When  asked  what  she  intended  her  husband 
should  be,  if  she  became  Queen,  she  answered, 
"  All  rule  and  authority  shall  be  vested  in  him. 
There  is  but  one  command,  which  I  wish  him  to 
obey  ;  and  that  is,  '  Husbands,  love  your  wives.' 
For  myself,  I  shall  follow  the  injunction,  '  Wives, 
be  obedient  to  your  husbands  in  all  things.'  " 

She  kept  the  promise  she  had  voluntarily  made 
They  were  proclaimed  under  the  title  of  William 
and  Mary,  but  the  power  was  entirely  vested  in  him. 
She  was  an  amiable  and  excellent  princess,  and  by 
her  example  made  industry  and  domestic  virtue 
fashionable.  She  was  constant  and  earnest  in  her 
attachment  to  the  king,  and  all  her  efforts  were  to 
promote  his  interests,  and  make  him  beloved  by  the 
people.  Her  letter  to  Lady  Russell,  in  which  she 
deplores  the  bustle  and  pomp  of  royalty,  because  it 
separated  her  so  much  from  her  husband,  is  a 
beautiful  proof  how  much  stronger  were  the  feel- 
ings of  the  woman  than  those  of  the  Queen. 


aUEEN    ANNE.  227 

The  king  had  great  confidence  in  her  ability 
and  discretion.  During  his  absence,  she  was  seve- 
ral times  left  regent  of  the  kingdom,  and  although 
the  conflicting  state  of  parties  rendered  the  office 
exceedingly  difficult,  she  discharged  her  duty  in  a 
remarkably  energetic  and  judicious  manner. 

She  died  in  1694,  in  her  thirtythird  year.  Her 
husband  showed  a  degree  of  affliction  hardly  to  be 
expected  from  one  whose  feelings  were  so  habitually 
subdued,  that  the  English  considered  him  cold  in  his 
affections.  For  several  weeks,  he  was  entirely  in- 
capable of  attending  to  any  business.  "  I  cannot 
do  otherwise  than  grieve,"  said  he  to  archbishop 
Tennison,  "  since  I  have  lost  a  wife,  who  during 
the  seventeen  years  I  have  lived  with  her  never 
committed  an  indiscretion." 


Q  U  E  E  N     A  N  N  E  , 

WIFE    OF    GEORGE    OF    DENMARK. 

THE  Princess  Anne,  younger  daughter  of  James 
the  Second,  who  married  Prince  George  of  Den- 
mark, was  likewise  a  most  amiable  and  affectionate 
wife,  and  a  very  judicious  mother.  During  the 
illness  of  her  husband,  which  lasted  several  years, 
she  would  never  leave  his  bed,  and  often  sat  up 
half  the  night  with  him.  Lady  Russell,  speaking 


228  QUEEN    ANNE, 

of  the  few  days  that  preceded  the  death  of  Prince 
George,  says  :  "  Sometimes  they  wept,  sometimes 
they  mourned ;  then  sat  silent,  hand  in  hand  ;  he 
sick  in  his  bed,  and  she  the  carefullest  nurse  to 
him  that  can  be  imagined." 

The  Prince  died  in  1708.  As  her  elder  sister, 
Mary,  died  without  children,  Anne  was  proclaimed 
dueen,  after  the  death  of  William.  She  had  a 
numerous  family,  but  none  of  them  survived  her. 

It  is  a  singular  circumstance  that  the  grand- 
mother of  Queens  Mary  and  Anne  was  a  poor 
country  girl,  employed  to  carry  beer  from  a  brewe- 
ry in  London.  She  was  handsome,  and  the 
brewer  married  her.  He  left  her  a  young  widow, 
with  a  large  fortune.  She  applied  to  Mr  Hyde, 
the  lawyer,  to  transact  her  business.  He  became 
enamoured  of  his  fair  client,  and  married  her.  Mr 
Hyde  became  Earl  of  Clarendon  :  his  daughter 
married  the  Duke  of  York,  afterwards  James  the 
Second,  and  became  the  mother  of  Mary  and 
Anne. 


COUNTESS  OF    DORSET, 

WIFE    OF    THOS.    SAUKVIL,    EARL    OF    DORSET. 

THE  following  tribute  to  the  virtues  of  a  good 
wife,  occurs  in  the  last  will  and  testament  of  the 
celebrated  Earl  of  Dorset,  one  of  the  finest  schol- 
ars of  his  time,  Chancellor  of  Oxford,  and  Lord 
High  Treasurer  of  England,  during  the  reign  of 
Elizabeth. 

"  Imprimis,  I  give  and  bequeath  unto  the  Lady 
Cicilie,  Countess  of  Dorset,  my  most  virtuous, 
faithful,  and  dearly  beloved  wife,  —  not  as  any  re- 
compense for  her  infinite  merit  towards  me,  — 
who,  for  incomparable  love,  zeal,  and  hearty  affec- 
tion ever  showed  unto  me,  and  for  those  her  so 
rare,  reverent  and  many  virtues,  of  charity,  modes- 
ty, fidelity,  humility,  secresy,  wisdom,  patience, 
and  a  mind  replete  with  all  piety  and  goodness, 
which  evermore  both  have  and  do  abound  in  her, 
deserveth  to  be  honored,  loved  and  esteemed  above, 
nil  the  transitory  wealth  and  treasures  of  this 
world,  and  therefore  by  no  price  of  earthly  riches 
can  by  me  be  valued, recompensed  or  requited, — 
io  her  therefore,  my  most  virtuous,  faithful,  and 


230  COUNTESS    OF    HUNTINGDON. 

entirely  beloved  wife,  —  not,  I  say,  as  a  recom- 
pense, but  as  a  true  token  and  testimony  of  my  un- 
speakable love,  affection,  estimation  and  reverence  ; 
long  since  fixed  and  settled  in  my  heart  and  soul 
towards  her,  I  give,"  &c. 


SELINA, 

t 

COUNTESS    OF    HUNTINGDON. 

THIS  noble  and  wealthy  lady  was  celebrated  for 
being  a  firm  and  zealous  Methodist,  at  a  period 
when  people  of  her  rank  universally  considered 
that  sect  as  vulgar  and  despicable ;  and  this  fact  in 
itself  announces  a  strong  character  and  generous 
feelings. 

She  was  most  devotedly  attached  to  her  husband, 
and  when  he  died,  her  heart  yearned  for  full  pos- 
session of  that  religious  faith,  which  promises  re- 
union in  the  world  to  come.  She  was  handsome 
and  distinguished,  and  the  world  of  fashion  did  not 
fail  to  offer  its  allurements  and  its  flattery  ;  but  she 
had  fixed  her  hopes  on  something  more  enduring) 
and  nothing  could  tempt  her  to  swerve  from  the 
path  she  had  chosen.  During  fortyfive  years  of 
widowhood,  her  spirit  held  close  communion  with 
the  dear,  departed  object  of  her  affections  ;  and 
every  look  and  tone  of  his  were  enshrined  in 


COUNTESS    OF    HUNTINGDON.  231 

memory.  She  caused  her  beautiful  bust  to  be 
placed  upon  his  tomb,  at  Ashby-de-la-Zouch,  in 
the  County  of  Leicester  ;  and  in  her  will,  she  re- 
quested that  her  body  might  be  placed  by  his  side, 
habited  in  the  same  dress  of  white  silk,  which  she 
had  worn  at  the  opening  of  the  Methodist  Chapel, 
in  Goodman's  Fields. 

In  the  course  of  her  life,  she  expended  more 
than  one  hundred  thousand  pounds  in  acts  of  pub- 
lic and  private  benevolence  ! 

A  tranquil,  meek  dignity,  was  her  prevailing 
characteristic. 

In  the  winter  of  1787  some  idle  scoffer  inclosed 
two  masquerade  tickets  in  a  cover  directed  to  her. 
She  received  the  insult  very  calmly  ;  and  handed 
the  tickets  to  one  of  her  deacons,  requesting  him 
to  sell  them  for  as  high  a  price  as  he  could,  and 
give  the  money  to  the  deserving  poor.  The  dea- 
con carried  them  to  the  west  end  of  the  town, 
where  he  sold  them  for  a  guinea  ;  with  this  money 
he  liberated  a  poor  debtor  from  the  Poultry  Comp- 
ter. 

The  Countess  of  Huntingdon  was  as  distinguish, 
ed  for  her  self-possession  and  acute  penetration 
into  character,  as  she  was  for  abundant  and  judi- 
cious kindness. 

She  died  June  17,  1791,  at  the  age  of  eighty- 
four. 


MRS    ROSS, 

WIFE     OF    CAPTAIN    ROSS. 

CAPTAIN  Ross  was  an  officer  in  the  English 
army  during  the  American  Revolutionary  war. 
He  was  much  attached  to  a  young  lady,  whose  en- 
gagements to  him  her  parents  refused  to  ratify. 
When  military  duty  compelled  him  to  cross  the 
Atlantic,  his  lady-love,  without  apprising  him  of 
her  intentions,  resolved  to  follow  him.  For  this 
purpose,  she  disguised  herself  in  men's  clothes,  and 
took  passage  for  America.  She  arrived  immedi- 
ately after  a  battle  had  been  fought  between  the 
Indians  and  the  detachment  to  which  Capt.  Ross 
belonged.  Among  the  dead  bodies,  she  quickly 
recognised  the  object  of  her  search.  He  was 
wounded  and  senseless  ;  but  she  discovered  a  slight 
pulsation  of  the  heart.  She  applied  her  lips  to  the 
wound,  from  which  she  sucked  the  flowing  blood, 
until  it  was  staunched.  This  remedy  restored  him 
to  life.  She  had  sufficient  presence  of  mind  to 
restrain  her  impetuous  joy,  well  knowing  how  fatal 
sudden  emotion  might  prove  to  one  in  his  weak 
and  languid  condition.  During  forty  days  she 
watched  over  him  with  the  most  unremitting  atten- 


MRS    ROSS.  233 

tion,  completely  disguised  by  her  dress  and  the  ar- 
tificial coloring  of  her  complexion.  During  his 
illness,  the  young  officer  talked  continually  of  the 
object  of  his  affections,  and  repeatedly  expressed 
his  fears  that  he  should  not  live  to  be  united  to 
her. 

When  his  health  was  sufficiently  restored,  the 
lady  made  herself  known  ;  and  if  she  was  tenderly 
beloved  before  she  made  such  sacrifices,  it  will 
readily  be  believed  that  she  was  idolized  now. 

They  departed  together  for  Philadelphia,  where 
they  were  immediately  married.  But  alas,  the 
perfect  happiness  they  enjoyed  was  not  to  be  of 
long  duration.  A  languor,  which  resisted  all  medi- 
cal art,  attacked  the  system  of  Mrs  Ross,  and 
threatened  to  terminate  her  life.  It  was  soon  dis- 
covered that  her  lover  had  been  wounded  by  a 
poisoned  arrow,  and  the  venom  pervaded  all  her 
blood.  Her  husband  watched  over  her  with  the 
most  tender  solicitude;  and  as  he  saw  one  remedy 
after  another  fail  to  restore  the  health  that  had  been 
so  affectionately  sacrificed  for  him,  his  hopes  grad- 
ually settled  into  despair,  and  he  died  broken- 
hearted in  the  spring  of  1778.  The  widow's  grief 
was  softened  by  the  certainty  of  soon  following  him 
she  had  loved  so  fondly.  She  summoned  sufficient 
fortitude  to  cross  the  Atlantic  again,  in  order  to 
implore  the  forgiveness  of  her  parents.  With  them 
she  languished  a  little  while,  and  died.  Her  spirit 
rejoined  her  husband  in  July,  1779,  when  she  was 
wentyfive  years  old.  A  monument  is  erected  to 


234  aUEEN    ELEANOR.— SYBELLA. 

her  memory  in  Hammersmith  church,    recording 
these  interesting  events. 


Two  instances  of  a  similar  kind  are  recorded  in 
history,  in  which  the  victims  were  perfectly  aware 
that  they  sacrificed  their  own  lives  to  save  their 
husbands  : 

QUEEN  ELEANOR,  wife  of  Edward  the  First,  being 
informed  that  the  king  was  wounded  with  a  poison- 
ed arrow,  drew  forth  the  venom  with  her  own  lips, 
and  died  for  him.  Charing  Cross,  in  London, 
takes  its  name  from  a  cross  which  Edward  erected 
to  her  memory.  Some  antiquarians  say  it  was  so 
called  from  the  village  of  Charing,  in  which  the 
monument  was  built :  others  deny  the  existence  of 
any  such  village,  and  contend  that  it  derived  its 
name  from  being  the  resting-place  of  chcrc  Reync, 
or  the  dear  queen. 


SYIJELLA,  wife  of  Robert  of  Normandy,  showed 
the  same  courageous  attachment  to  her  husband. 
The  prince  being  wounded  in  this  shocking  man- 
ner, was  informed  that  recovery  was  impossible, 
unless  the  poison  was  sucked  out.  The  amiable 
son  of  the  Conqueror  resolved  to  die,  rather  than 
allow  any  one  to  make  the  dangerous  experiment. 
But  while  he  slept,  Sybella,  his  duchess,  gently 
applied  her  lips  to  the  wound ;  and  before  he 
awoke,  the  deadly  venom  had  passed  into  her  veins. 
She  did  not  long  survive  this  proof  of  her  love. 


LADY   HARRIET    ACKLAND, 

WIFE     OF     MAJOR    ACKLAND. 

MAJOR  ACKLAND  was  an  officer  in  the  British 
army,  during  the  war,  which  terminated  in  the 
acknowledged  independence  of  the  American 
Colonies. 

His  wife  accompanied  him  to  Canada,  in  the 
beginning  of  1776.  During  the  campaign  of  that 
year,  she  traversed  a  great  extent  of  territory,  ex- 
posed to  the  inclemencies  of  various  seasons,  and 
to  all  the  privations  and  inconveniences  attendant 
upon  an  active  military  life.  For  a  long  time, 
Major  Ackland  was  very  ill  in  a  miserable  hut  at 
Chamblee  ;  and  his  lady,  accustomed  as  she  was 
to  luxury  and  indulgence,  zealously  performed  the 
offices  of  nurse,  servant,  and  friend. 

The  fatigue  and  sufferings  she  was  obliged  to 
endure,  distressed  her  husband  so  much,  that  he 
absolutely  forbade  her  going  with  him  to  Ticonde- 
roga,  in  1777;  but  he  being  wounded  at  the  battle 
of  Ilubberton,  nothing  could  prevent  her  from 
crossing  Lake  Champlain,  to  attend  upon  him. 
After  this  she  insisted  upon  following  all  his  for- 
tunes, and  would  take  no  denial.  Together  they 


236  LADY    HARRIET    ACKLAND. 

traversed  the  dreary  forests  to  Fort  Edward.  Here 
they  were  subject  to  such  sudden  alarms,  that  no 
person  laid  down  to  sleep  without  being  ready  to 
start  at  a  moment's  warning.  One  night,  Major 
Ackland's  tent  took  fire.  One  of  the  grenadiers 
rushed  in  and  dragged  out  the  first  person  he  laid 
hold  of,  which  proved  to  be  the  Major.  Lady 
Harriet,  awakened  to  a  confused  sense  of  danger, 
crept  out  under  the  opposite  part  of  the  tent.  She 
caught  a  glimpse  of  her  husband  rushing  back  into 
the  flames  to  save  her:  he  was  again  rescued, 
though  severely  burned.  The  tent,  and  all  it  con- 
tained, was  consumed. 

This  accident,  of  course,  exposed  Lady  Ackland 
to  many  additional  inconveniences  ;  but  she  main- 
tained a  courageous  cheerfulness,  and  endured  all 
her  hardships  without  a  murmur. 

On  the  19th  of  September,  her  fortitude  was  put 
to  the  severest  trial.  Her  husband,  being  aware 
that  the  army  were  constantly  exposed  to  an  en- 
counter with  the  enemy,  during  their  march,  or- 
dered the  women  to  follow  in  the  rear  of  the  artil- 
lery and  baggage.  In  that  situation  all  the  upioar 
of  the  battle  was  distinctly  audible ;  and  she  had 
the  agonizing  knowledge  that  her  beloved  husband 
was  in  the  front  ranks  of  danger.  She  had  three 
female  companions  with  her,  the  Baroness  Reide- 
sel,  and  the  wives  of  Major  Harnage  and  Lieuten- 
ant Kennels. 

As  the  action  grew  more  bloody,  the  ladies  took 
refuge  in  an  uninhabited  house,  where  for  hours 


LADY    HARRIET   ACKLAND.  237 

together  they  heard  one  continued  fire  of  cannon 
and  musketry.  To  this  place  of  retreat  the  sur- 
geons soon  began  to  bring  in  the  wounded  and 
dying,  among  which  many  a  familiar  face  was 
recognised.  Major  Harnage  was  brought  in 
dreadfully  wounded,  and  Lieutenant  Kennels  was 
shot  dead.  In  this  terrible  situation,  the  poor 
women,  particularly  Lady  Ackland,  retained  a 
wonderful  degree  of  firmness  and  presence  of  mind. 

On  the  7th  of  October,  she  was  again  within 
hearing  of  all  the  tumult  of  battle,  and  again  her 
place  of  refuge  was  among  the  wounded  and  dying. 
After  a  long  period  of  agonizing  suspense,  she  re- 
ceived intelligence  that  the  troops  were  defeated, 
and  her  husband  wounded,  and  taken  prisoner. 
The  Baroness  Reidesel  says,  "  On  hearing  this,  she 
became  very  miserable  ;  we  tried  to  comfort  her  by 
telling  her  the  wound  was  slight,  and  that  she  would 
perhaps  receive  permission  to  go  to  him.  She 
was  a  charming  woman,  and  very  fond  of  him." 
On  the  morning  of  the  8th,  Lady  Ackland  sent  a 
most  urgent  petition  to  General  Burgoyne,  entreat- 
ing liberty  to  pass  into  the  American  camp,  for  the- 
purpose  of  obtaining  General  Gates's  permission  to 
attend  upon  her  husband. 

On  this  occasion,  General  Burgoyne  says,  "  I 
could  readily  believe  that  the  tenderest  forms  were 
capable  of  the  utmost  patience  and  fortitude,  for  my 
experience  had  furnished  me  with  abundant  proofs  ; 
but  I  was  astonished  at  this  proposition.  After  so 
long  an  agitation  of  the  spirits  —  exhausted,  not 


238  LADY   HARRIET    ACKLAND. 

only  from  want  of  rest,  but  absolutely  from  want  of 
food — drenched  in  rain  for  twelve  hours  together 

O 

—  that  a.  woman  should  be  capable  of  such  an  un- 
dertaking as  delivering  herself  to  the  enemy,  pro- 
bably in  the  night,  and  uncertain  into  what  hands 
she  might  fall  at  first,  appeared  to  me  an  effort 
above  human  nature  !  The  assistance  I  was  able 
to  give  her  was  small  indeed.  I  had  not  even  a 
cup  of  wine  to  offer  ;  but  I  was  told  she  obtained, 
from  some  fortunate  hand,  a  little  rum,  and  some 
dirty  water.  All  I  could  furnish  was  an  open  boat, 
and  a  few  lines,  written  on  dirty,  wet  paper, 
recommending  her  to  the  protection  of  General 
Gates." 

The  chaplain  of  the  regiment  cheerfully  undertook 
to  accompany  her,  and  with  two  other  attendants 
she  was  rowed  down  the  river  to  meet  the  enemy 
The  night  was  far  advanced  when  the  boat  reach- 
ed the  out-posts  of  the  American  camp ;  and  the 
sentinel,  apprehensive  of  treachery,  could  not  be 
prevailed  upon  either  to  let  it  pass,  or  to  allow  the 
passengers  to  come  on  shore;  he  threatened  to  fire 
into  the  boat,  if  it  stirred  before  daylight.  Lady 
Ackland's  sufferings  were  thus  protracted  through 
seven  or  eight  cold  and  dreary  hours.  She  was  at 
last  permitted  to  proceed  ;  and  it  is  hardly  neces- 
sary to  say  that  General  Gates  received  her  with 
the  utmost  kindness  and  respect.  An  escort  was 
provided  to  convey  her  safely  to  Albany,  where 
she  rejoined  her  wounded  companion. 

In  order  to  form  a  proper  estimate  of  this  lady's 


LADY    HARRIET    ACKLAND.  239 

fortitude,  we  must  recollect  that  she  had  always 
been  accustomed  to  the  refined  indulgences  atten- 
dant upon  rank  and  wealth ;  that  her  frame  was 
delicate  ;  her  manners  gentle,  and  above  all,  that 
she  was  in  a  state  of  health,  which  rendered  such 
exposure  peculiarly  inconvenient  and  hazardous. 
A  strong  character  and  ardent  affection  were  all 
that  fitted  her  for  such  trials. 

Of  her  remaining  biography  little  is  known  ;  but 
we  may  safely  conclude  that  domestic  love  was 
strengthened  by  the  hardships  she  had  endured, 
and  that  in  her  husband's  gratitude  she  'found  a 
rich  and  abundant  reward.* 

*  Since  the  above  was  printed,  the  editor  has  been  allowed 
to  examine  the  private  journal  of  the  late  excellent  General 
Dearborn,  who  commanded  at  the  post  where  Lady  Aek- 
land's  boat  was  first  hailed.  It  is  not  true  that  any  threats 
were  used,  or  any  greater  detention  occasioned,  than  was 
necessary  to  ascertain  that  the  passengers  came  with  a  flag 
of  truce.  Lady  Ackland  was  indeed  prevailed  upon  to  go  no 
farther  that  night,  because  it  was  dark  and  stormy,  and  the 
presiding  officer  was  able  to  give  her  encouraging  news 
concerning  her  husband.  From  first  to  last,  her  treatment 
in  the  American  camp  was  compassionate  and  respectful. 


BARONESS     REIDESEL, 

WIFE    OF    GENERAL    REIDESEL, 

WE  have  already  mentioned  this  lady  as  the  com- 
panion of  Lady  Ackland  during  the  trying  scenes 
of  the  19th  of  September,  and  the  7th  of  October. 
When  Lady  Ackland  went  to  the  American  camp, 
the  Baroness  Reidesel  remained  surrounded  by  the 
wounded  and  the  dying.  A  more  forlorn  and  dis- 
couraging situation  can  hardly  be  imagined.  It 
was  difficult  to  obtain  even  the  most  common  com- 
forts of  life;  she  was  surrounded  by  little  children, 
who  kept  her  in  a  state  of  constant  anxiety  lest  their 
noise  should  disturb  the  dying  officers  ;  and  often, 
after  a  day  of  fatiguing  exertion,  she  passed  the 
whole  night  without  sleep.  Nothing  could  exceed 
her  attention  to  the  poor  sufferers  around  her.  She 
dressed  their  wounds,  prepared  cushions  and  cor- 
dials for  them,  and  gave  them  any  little  delicate 
morsel  of  nourishment  she  could  obtain,  though  she 
herself  was  scantily  provided.  This  excited  the 
most  enthusiastic  gratitude,  and  she  was  universal- 
ly considered  as  a  benefactress  to  the  army.  Be- 
fore General  Burgoyne  began  his  retreat,  it  was 
necessary  to  bury  General  Frazer,  who  had  just 


BARONESS    RE1DESEL.  241 

died  of  his  wound.  General  Gates,  not  being  aware 
it  was  a  funeral,  ordered  the  procession  to  be  fired 
upon.  The  Baroness  Reidesel  says,  "Many  can- 
non-balls flew  close  by  me,  but  I  had  my  eyes  di- 
rected to  the  height  where  my  husband  was  stand- 
ing, amidst  the  fire  of  the  enemy  ;  and  I  could  not 
think  of  my  own  danger." 

The  retreat  of  the  English  army  was  principally 
made  in  the  silence  of  night ;  for  their  route  was 
environed  by  dangers.  It  was  evening  when  the 
Baroness  Reidesel  arrived  at  Saratoga.  Her  dress 
was  thoroughly  soaked  with  rain,  and  in  this  con- 
dition she  was  obliged  to  remain  all  night ;  though 
she  was  at  last  able  to  obtain  a  little  straw,  on  which 
she  reposed  near  the  fire.  Yet,  tired  as  she  was, 
she  was  anxious  to  proceed.  She  asked  an  officer, 
"  Why  do  we  not  continue  our  retreat  ?  My  hus- 
band has  promised  to  cover  it,  and  bring  the  army 
through."  "  Poor,  dear  lady,"  replied  the  officer, 
"  drenched  as  you  are,  I  wonder  you  have  so  much 
courage  to  persevere.  I  wish  you  were  our  Com- 
mander. General  Burgoyne  is  so  much  fatigued 
that  he  intends  to  halt  here  tonight." 

Next  morning  the  retreat  was  continued,  and 
orders  were  given  to  burn  the  handsome  houses 
and  mills  of  General  Schuyler.  Such  is  the  wan- 
ton havoc  of  war ! 

In  the  afternoon,  the  firing  of  cannon  being 
heard,  General  Reidesel  urged  his  wife  to  take  re- 
fuge in  a  house  not  far  off.  The  calash,  which 
conveyed  her  and  her  children,  was  fired  on.  She 
16 


242  BARONESS    REIDESEL. 

escaped  by  throwing  her  children  under  the  seat, 
and  lying  upon  them,  so  that  the  balls  passed  over  , 
but  a  poor  wounded  soldier,  who  was  with  them, 
not  perceiving  the  danger  quick  enough  to  dodge, 
received  another  wound. 

An  awful  cannonade  was  directed  against  the 
house  in  which  they  sought  shelter.  The  Baron- 
ess and  her  children  took  refuge  in  the  cellar ; 
there  she  remained  all  day,  the  little  ones  lying  on 
the  earth,  with  their  heads  on  her  lap  ;  and  there 
she  passed  a  sleepless  and  dreadful  night.  Eleven 
cannon  balls  passed  through  the  house,  and  she 
could  distinctly  hear  them  roll  away.  One  poor 
fellow,  who  was  waiting  to  have  a  shattered  leg 
amputated,  was  struck  by  a  shot  that  carried  away 
the  other.  His  comrades  had  left  him,  and  when 
the  ladies  went  to  his  assistance,  they  found  him 
in  a  corner  of  the  room  scarcely  breathing. 

During  the  whole  of  this  dangerous  crisis,  the 
Baroness  was  in  the  most  cruel  suspense  concern- 
ing the  fate  of  her  husband.  In  this  distressing 
situation  they  remained  six  days.  General  Reide- 
sel  and  an  English  officer  once  came  to  see  them, 
at  the  risk  of  their  lives.  When  they  went  away, 
the  officer  said,  "Not  for  ten  thousand  guineas 
would  I  come  here  again.  This  visit  has  almost 
broken  my  heart." 

On  the  17th  of  October,  General  Burgoyne  made 
a  formal  surrender,  and  this  frightful  state  of  things 
was  ended.  The  moment  it  was  safe,  General 
Reidesel  sent  for  his  family  to  come  to  him.  She 


BARONESS      REIDESEL.  243 

says,  "  As  we  rode  through  the  American  camp  it 
was  a  great  consolation  to  see  that  no  one  eyed  us 
resentfully  ;  on  the  contrary,  all  showed  compas- 
sion at  the  sight  of  a  woman  with  little  children. 
As  I  drew  near  the  tents,  a  handsome  man  came 
up,  and,  kissing  my  children  affectionately,  bade 
me  not  be  afraid.  This  reception  affected  me  al- 
most to  tears.  After  he  had  introduced  me  to  the 
American  commander,  he  said,  '  The  English  offi- 
cers are  to  dine  with  General  Gates  today.  You  will 
be  embarrassed  to  meet  so  much  company.  Come 
to  my  tent  with  your  children,  where  I  will  prepare  a 
frugal  dinner  and  give  it  with  free  will.'  I  now  found 
this  was  General  Schuyler  !  I  said  to  him,  '  You 
are  certainly  a  husband  and  a  father,  you  have 
treated  me  and  my  little  ones  with  so  much  kind- 
ness.' We  partook  of  an  excellent  dinner;  and 
now  that  my  husband  was  out  of  danger,  I  was 
content."  General  Schuyler  informed  them  that 
he  resided  at  Albany,  where  General  Burgoyne 
was  about  to  visit  him  ;  and  he  urged  them  to  join 
the  party.  Her  husband  wished  to  accept  the  in- 
vitation ;  but  as  he  was  unable  to  start  at  the  same 
time  she  did,  General  Schuyler  had  the  politeness 
to  send  a  French  officer  to  escort  her  during  the 
first  part  of  the  journey.  At  the  house  where  she 
was  to  remain  for  the  night,  she  found  a  flippant 
French  surgeon,  who,  with  profligate  pertness,  in- 
formed her  that  it  would  be  wise  to  leave  the  con- 
quered and  remain  with  the  conquerors.  He  would 
not  believe  she  was  a  General's  wife ;  saying  no 


244  BARONESS    REIDESEL. 

woman  of  that  rank  would  follow  her  husband  into 
the  camp. 

The  presence  of  General  Reidesel  soon  put  a 
stop  to  his  impertinence  ;  and  they  arrived  at  Al- 
bany in  safety  and  peace. 

General  Schuyler,  with  his  wife  and  daughters, 
received  them  as  heartily  as  if  they  had  been  old 
friends.  General  Burgoyne  was  sensibly  affected 
by  this  noble  conduct ;  it  painfully  reminded  him 
of  the  houses  and  mills  he  had  burned  down  during 
his  retreat.  "  I  have  done  you  much  injury," 
said  he  ;  "  yet  you  show  me  great  kindness." 
"  That  was  the  fortune  of  war,"  replied  the  excel- 
lent man  ;  "  Let  us  think  no  more  of  it." 

******** 

Whether  the  troubles  of  the  Baroness  Reidesel 
ended  with  the  American  war,  is  not  recorded.  It 
is  probable  that  the  remainder  of  her  life  passed 
without  bringing  any  greater  calamities  than  usu- 
ally fall  to  the  lot  of  mortals. 


MRS  JUDSON, 

WIPE  OF  ADONIRAM  JUDSON. 

MRS  ANN  II.  JUDSON  was  the  daughter  of  Mr 
John  Hasseltine,  and  was  born  in  Bradford,  Mas- 
sachusetts, in  December,  1789.  Activity,  gayety, 
and  enthusiasm  were  her  early  characteristicst 
During  the  period  of  extreme  youth  her  busy  mind 
and  ardent  feelings  found  abundant  employment  in 
the  social  pleasures  of  the  world,  which  she  enjoy, 
ed  with  a  peculiarly  keen  zest :  but  before  she  was 
seventeen  years  old,  her  attention  was  aroused  to 
serious  subjects,  and  her  religious  impressions  im- 
bibed all  the  fervor  of  her  natural  character. 

In  1810  she  became  acquainted  with  Mr  Adoni- 
ram  Judson,  who  was  then  preparing  to  engage  in  a 
mission  to  India,  for  the  conversion  of  the  heathen. 
A  mutual  attachment  sprung  up  between  them. 
The  situation  was  peculiar,  and  somewhat  difficult. 
If  she  accepted  Mr  Judson,  she  must,  of  course, 
consent  to  leave  her  home  and  friends,  and  go  to  a 
far  distant  clime,  in  order  to  try  an  experiment,  the 
success  of  .which,  to  say  the  least,  was  very  uncer- 
tain ;  then  there  was  the  conscientious  fear  that 
human  affection  would  have  more  influence  than  it 


246  MRS    J  CDS  ON. 

ought  to  have,  in   a  step  for  which  she   would  re- 
ceive the  credit  of  religious  zeal. 

The  result  was  her  marriage  with  Mr  Judson,  in 
February,  1812.  About  a  fortnight  after  the  wed- 
ding they  embarked  for  India,  accompanied  by 
several  others,  who  had  been  ordained  as  mission- 
aries ;  among  whom  were  Mr  and  Mrs  Newell. 
Mrs  Judson,  and  Mrs  Harriet  Newell  were  the 
first  women  that  left  America  for  the  purpose  of 
devoting  themselves  to  the  cause  of  missions. 

We  shall  pass  over  the  doubts  and  encourage- 
ments, the  trials  and  triumphs,  which  fell  to  their 
lot,  while  engaged  in  this  undertaking :  Whoever 
wishes  to  see  an  interesting  account  of  the  mission, 
will  find  it  in  a  small  volume  written  by  the  Rev. 
James  D.  Knovvles ;  a  book  so  universally  known, 
that  it  scarcely  need  be  mentioned. 

We  have  Mrs  Judson's  own  testimony  that  her 
union  was  happy.  In  a  letter  to  her  sister,  she 
says  :  "  I  find  Mr  Judson  one  of  the  kindest,  most 
faithful,  and  affectionate  of  husbands.  His  con- 
versation frequently  dissipates  the  gloomy  clouds  of 
spiritual  darkness  which  hang  over  my  mind,  and 
brightens  my  hope  of  a  happy  eternity.  I  hope 
God  will  make  ug  instrumental  of  preparing  each 
other  for  usefulness  in  this  world,  and  greater  hap- 
piness in  a  future  existence." 

During  the  first  years  of  the  mission,  Mrs  Judson 
had  many  inconveniences  to  encounter,  and  she 
met  them  with  a  singular  degree  of  patience  and 
energy;  but  her  trials  at  this  period  were  very 


MRS    JUDSON.  247 

largely  mingled  with  blessings  and  enjoyments. 
Her  real  afflictions  began  with  the  war  between 
England  and  the  Burman  Empire  in  1824.  On 
the  suspicion  of  being  spies,  paid  by  the  English 
government,  Mr  Judson,  and  several  other  individu- 
als, were  imprisoned  and  treated  with  great  severity. 
The  weight  of  this  calamity  was  increased  by  sepa- 
ration from  their  friends  and  fellow-laborers  ;  for 
they  were  at  Ava,  while  the  main  body  of  the  mis- 
sionaries were  at  Rangoon. 

On  the  Sth  of  June,  Mr  and  Mrs  Judson  were 
preparing  for  dinner,  when  in  rushed  an  officer, 
holding  a  black  book,  with  a  dozen  Burmans, 
among  whom  one  with  a  spotted  face  was  immedi- 
ately recognised  as  "  the  son  of  the  prison,"  or  the 
executioner.  This  man  threw  Mr  Judson  violently 
on  the  floor,  and  began  to  bind  him  with  cords. 

Mrs  Judson  begged  him  to  be  merciful,  promis- 
ing to  give  him  money.  "  Take  her  too,"  exclaimed 
the  brutal  officer  ;  "  she  also  is  a  foreigner."  Her 
husband,  with  an  imploring  look,  entreated  that 
she  might  remain,  at  least  till  they  received  further 
orders.  They  consented  to  this  ;  and  having  bound 
his  fetters  very  tight,  they  dragged  him  off,  she 
knew  not  whither. 

She  followed,  offering  them  money,  and  entreat- 
ing them  to  loosen  the  cords  a  little.  Finding  her 
efforts  unavailing,  she  sent  Moung  Ing  (a  native 
convert  to  whom  they  were  much  attached),  to 
make  some  further  exertions  for  the  benefit  of  the 
prisoner  ;  but  the  unfeeling  jailor  only  drew  his 


248  MRS  JUDSON, 

cords  the  tighter.  Moung  Ing  returned  with  the 
information  that  the  foreigners  had  been  thrown 
into  the  death-prison.  It  would  be  an  idle  attempt 
to  describe  how,  the  night  was  passed  by  that  wretch- 
ed wife.  A  guard  often  ruffians  was  placed  round 
the  house,  who  spared  no  pains  to  insult  and  ter- 
rify her.  Their  loud  carousings  and  fierce  language 
tormented  her  till  morning,  when  her  worst  fears 
were  confirmed  by  hearing  that  the  prisoners  had 
each  three  pair  of  iron  fetters,  and  were  fastened 
to  a  long  pole.  Her  greatest  source  of  anguish 
was  her  inability  to  make  any  exertions  in  their 
behalf.  In  vain  she  begged  and  entreated  permis- 
sion to  state  her  case  to  some  officers  of  govern- 
ment. At  last  she  wrote  a  note  to  the  king's  sister, 
but  received  it  again  with  the  cold  reply  that  the 
princess  could  not  understand  it.  Another  weari- 
some day  and  sleepless  night  passed  heavily  on, 
and  brought  to  her  no  hope.  On  the  third  day 
she  begged  to  wait  upon  the  governor  of  the  city 
with  a  present.  This  was  touching  the  right  key. 
The  governor  received  her  graciously,  and  heard 
her  earnest  expostulations  against  imprisoning 
Americans,  who  were  a  people  distinct  from  the 
English,  and  entirely  unconnected  with  their  wars. 
He  said  it  was  out  of  his  power  to  release  her  hus- 
band ;  he  however  promised  to  make  him  more 
comfortable,  and  referred  to  his  head-officer  for 
the  means.  The  officer  demanded  a  secret  bribe 
of  one  hundred  dollars,  two  pieces  of  fine  cloth, 
and  two  pieces  of  handkerchiefs.  The  money  was 


MRS    JUDSON.  249 

paid,  and  the  other  articles  excused,  because  she 
did  not  own  them.  This  fee  gave  her  access  to 
the  prison,  but  she  was  not  allowed  to  enter.  Mr 
Judson  crawled  to  the  door  and  talked  with  her  a 
few  minutes.  Even  this  poor  consolation  was 
grudgingly  allowed  by  the  jailors,  and  they  soon 
ordered  her  to  go  away,  telling  her  they  would 
drag  her  off,  if  she  did  not. 

Again  Mrs  Judson  sought  an  interview  with  a 
female  relative  of  the  royal  family.  With  heart 
stirring  eloquence  she  represented  the  extreme  in- 
justice of  her  husband's  case  ;  begged  the  lady  to 
imagine  what  would  be  her  own  wretchedness  in 
a  similar  situation ;  alone  and  unprotected  in  a 
strange  land,  daily  expecting  the  death  of  the 
friend  she  best  loved,  and  that  friend  innocent  of 
any  crime ;  and  concluded  by  imploring  her  me- 
diation with  the  queen. 

The  lady's  feelings  were  touched,  and  she  prom- 
ised to  use  her  influence.  But  the  hopes  thus  ex- 
cited were  dashed  to  the  ground,  by  her  Majesty's 
cool  answer,  "  The  teachers  will  not  die  ;  let  them 
remain  as  they  are." 

In  the  meantime,  the  property  of  the  foreigners  was 
confiscated.  Mrs  Judson,  being  fore-warned  of  this, 
secreted  as  many  articles  of  value  as  she  could. 
The  officers  conducted  the  business  with  more  re- 
gard to  her  feelings  than  she  expected.  Seeing 
her  deeply  affected,  they  apologized,  by  reminding 
her  of  the  obedience  they  owed  the  king,  assuring 
her  their  duty  was  a  painful  one.  They  left  the 


250  MRS    JUDSON. 

books,  wearing  apparel,  and  medicines.  When 
they  had  taken  all  the  money  they  could  find,  they 
asked,  "  Is  this  all  the  silver  you  have  ?  "  Mrs 
Judson  would  not  resort  to  a  falsehood,  even  in 
these  trying  circumstances  :  she  simply  replied, 
"  The  house  is  in  your  possession  ;  search  for  your- 
selves." 

Even  the  sad  interviews  at  the  prison  gate  were 
now  forbidden;  and  a  man  who  was  discovered 
carrying  letters  was  beaten  and  put  in  the  stocks. 
His  release  could  not  be  obtained  under  ten  dol- 
lars. With  the  rapacity  of  despotic  governments, 
every  pretext  was  seized  upon  to  extort  money 
from  the  unfortunate  sufferers;  and  difficulties 
were  multiplied  for  the  express  purpose  of  trying 
how  much  they  would  give  to  be  extricated. 

The  governor  of  the  city  was  exceedingly  angry 
when  he  found  Mrs  Judson  had  told  of  the  sum 
she  had  given  him  and  his  officers,  for  a  slight 
amelioration  in  her  husband's  condition.  "  You 
are  very  bad  !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  Why  did  you  tell  of 
that?  "  "  The  royal  treasurer  asked  me  ;  and  what 
could  I  say?''  she  replied,  "  Say  you  gave  me 
nothing."  "  My  religion  forbids  a  lie.  Had  you 
stood  by  me  with  your  dagger  raised,  I  could  not 
have  said  what  you  suggest."  Upon  this,  the  gov- 
ernor's wife  immediately  took  her  part,  saying  she 
liked  such  sincerity.  This  lady  ever  after  con- 
tinued a  firm  friend  to  Mrs  Judson  ;  and  the  gov- 
ernor was  pacified  by  the  present  of  a  beautiful 
opera-glass,  which  had  lately  been  sent  from  Eng- 
land. 


MRS    JUDSON.  251 

For  the  seven  succeeding  months,  Mrs  Judson 
daily  continued  her  importunate  entreaties  to  dif- 
ferent members  of  the  royal  family,  and  various 
branches  of  the  government.  Sometimes,  she  was 
cheered  with  a  ray  of  hope,  which  only  made  the 
succeeding  darkness  more  insupportable.  During 
this  period,  she  suffered  under  every  species  of  op- 
pression :  all  the  officers,  from  the  highest  to  the 
lowest,  taxed  their  ingenuity  to  invent  schemes  of 
extortion. 

Liberty  to  go  to  the  prison  was  gained  by  reiter- 
ated presents  to  those  in  authority ;  but  often,  for 
days  in  succession,  she  was  not  allowed  to  go  till 
after  dark,  although  it  was  two  miles  from  her  res- 
idence. 

In  a  letter  to  her  husband's  brother,  after  relating 
these  particulars,  she  says  :  "  Oil,  how  many,  many 
times  have  I  returned  from  that  dreary  prison  at 
nine  o'clock  at  night,  solitary,  and  worn  out  with 
fatigue  and  anxiety,  and  thrown  myself  down  in 
that  same  rocking  chair,  which  you  and  Deacon 
L.  provided  for  me  in  Boston,  and  endeavored  to 
invent  some  new  scheme  for  the  release  of  the 
prisoners.  Sometimes,  for  a  moment,  my  thoughts 
would  glance  towards  my  beloved  friends  in  Amer- 
ica—  but  for  nearly  a  year  and  a  half  every 
thought  was  so  entirely  engrossed  with  present 
scenes  and  sufferings,  that  I  seldom  reflected  on 
a  single  occurrence  of  my  former  life,  or  recollect- 
ed that  I  had  a  friend  in  existence  out  of  Ava." 

The  only  commander,  who  had  any  success 
against  the  British  forces,  was  Bandoola  ;  and  he 


252  MRS    JUDSON. 

consequently  had  almost  unlimited  influence  with 
the  kino-.  As  a  last  resource,  Mrs  Judson  resolved 

O  * 

to  apply  to  this  officer  for  the  release  of  the  mie- 
sionaries  ;  although  some  cautioned  her  against 
this  step,  lest  being  reminded  of  them,  he  should 
order  their  instant  execution.  The  petition  was 
received  graciously ;  but  her  excited  hopes  were 
soon  dashed  by  a  message  stating  that  the  city  of 
Rangoon  must  be  re-taken  before  Bandoola  could 
attend  to  her  cause. 

The  unhappy  wife  was,  however,  allowed  to 
make  a  little  bamboo  room  within  the  prison  in- 
closures,  where  she  could  sometimes  spend  two  or 
three  hours  with  her  husband. 

The  birth  of  a  little  daughter  interrupted  these 
visits  ;  and  as  she  could  not  during  her  illness 
make  daily  presents,  and  offer  daily  petitions,  the 
cause  of  the  prisoners  lost  ground.  Besides  this, 
the  total  defeat  of  Bandoola  exasperated  the  gov- 
ernment still  more  against  all  foreigners.  The 

O  '         O 

missionaries  were  removed  to  an  inner  prison,  in 
five  pair  of  fetters  each,  and  deprived  of  their  mats, 
pillows,  &c. 

Mrs  Judson's  babe  was  not  two  months  old,  when 
she  received  these  tidings.  She  immediately  re- 
paired to  the  Governor,  but  was  sent  away  with  the 
assurance  that  he  could  not  help  her.  But  she 
persevered  until  she  obtained  an  audience.  With 
pathetic  eloquence  she  reminded  him  of  his  former 
kindness,  of  his  promise  to  stand  by  her  to  the  last, 
and  never  under  any  circumstances,  allow  Mr  Jud> 
son  to  be  put  to  death.  The  old  man  melted  into 


MRS    JUDSON.  253 

tears,  as  he  listened  to  her  impassioned  entreaties. 
"I  pity  you,"  said  he  ;  "I  knew  you  would  make 
me  feel ;  and  therefore  I  ordered  that  you  should 
not  be  admitted.  Believe  me  I  do  not  wish  to  in- 
crease the  sufferings  of  the  prisoners.  When  I  am 
ordered  to  execute  them,  the  least  I  can  do  is  to 
keep  them  out  of  sight.  Three  times  I  have  re- 
ceived intimations  to  murder  them  privately  ;  but  I 
would  not  do  it.  And  I  now  repeat  it,  though  I 
execute  all  the  others,  I  will  save  your  husband. 
But  I  cannot  release  him, —  and  you  must  not  ask 
it." 

It  was  the  hot  season  of  that  burning  climate, 
and  a  multitude  of  prisoners  were  confined  in  one 
room.  The  consequence  was  universal  debility 
and  loss  of  appetite.  Mr  Judson  was  seized  with 
a  fever,  which  threatened  to  terminate  his  life. 

Mrs  Judson  entreated  permission  to  attend  upon 
him ;  and  the  governor,  worn  out  by  her  im- 
portunities, consented  that  he  should  be  >emoved 
to  a  little  bamboo  hut,  where  she  could  nurse  him. 
The  hovel  was  too  low  to  admit  of  standing  up- 
right ;  but  to  people  in  their  circumstances  it  seemed 
a  delightful  abode.  She  was  sometimes  driven 
out  by  the  brutal  jailors ;  but  in  general  she  was 
able  to  stay  two  hours  together  with  her  suffering 
companion 

This  gleam  of  consolation  soon  vanished.  At 
the  end  of  two  or  three  days,  the  governor  sent  to 
call  her  from  one  of  these  visits.  Much  alarmed, 
she  hastened  to  obey  the  summons.  He  said  he 
only  wanted  to  consult  with  her  about  his  watch  ; 


254  MRS    JUDSON. 

but  she  afterwards  found  that  his  object  was  to  de- 
tain her  until  the  white  prisoners  were  carried  away 
from  the  city. 

For  many  months  her  feelings  had  been  discon- 
solate enough ;  but  when  she  heard  of  this  new 
affliction,  her  agony  amounted  almost  to  distraction. 
She  ran  hither  and  thither,  inquiring  of  every  one 
she  met;  but  no  one  would  tell  her  where  the 
prisoners  had  been  conveyed.  At  last  an  old 
woman  said  they  were  to  be  carried  to  Amarapora. 
The  governor  confirmed  this,  pleading  the  necessity 
of  obedience  to  the  king,  and  his  ignorance  of  the 
intentions  of  government.  "  You  can  do  no  more 
for  your  husband,"  said  he;"  take  care  of  your- 
self." 

This  was  indeed  a  moment  of  despair.  Even  the 
miserable  little  bamboo  prison  had  become  an  ob- 
ject of  love  and  pleasant  association  :  now  all  with- 
in it  was  silent  and  cheerless.  The  melancholy 
occupation  of  watching  the  invalid,  of  preparing 
his  medicines  and  food,  had  ceased.  He  was  car- 
ried off,  she  knew  not  whither,  nor  for  what  dread- 
ful purpose.  It  can  easily  be  conjectured  what 
resolution  was  taken  by  a  woman  of  her  strong 
heart.  She  determined  to  follow  her  husband. 
The  governor's  charge  to  take  care  of  herself  im- 
plied personal  danger ;  and  this  became  more 
evident  by  his  wish  that  she  should  not  leave  Ava 
until  after  dark,  when  he  promised  to  send  a  man 
to  open  the  gates. 
She  sailed  for  Amarapora  in  a  covered  boat, 


MRS    JUDSON.  255 

with  her  little  infant,  two  adopted  Burman  children 
and  a  Bengalee  cook.  The  day  was  dreadfully 
hot,  but  they  proceeded  in  tolerable  comfort,  till 
within  two  miles  of  the  government-house.  They 
were  then  obliged  to  take  a  cart  and  jostle  over 
the  dust  under  a  scorching  sun.  When  they  arrived 
there,  they  found  the  prisoners  had  been  sent  on 
two  hours  before  ;  and  it  became  necessary  to  go 
four  miles  further,  in  the  same  uncomfortable  man- 
ner, with  a  baby  in  her  weary  arms. 

On  her  arrival  at  Oung-pen-la  she  found  Mr  Jud- 
son in  a  state  of  deplorable  misery.  The  prisoners 
had  been  tied  together  two  and  two,  and  driven  along 
in  the  heat  of  the  day,  till  their  feet  bled  at  every 
step.  One  of  them  died  in  consequence  of  this 
treatment.  Mr  Judson,  still  suffering  under  the 
remains  of  his  fever,  narrowly  escaped  death.  His 
anxious  wife,  almost  exhausted  with  fatigue  and 
wretchedness,  could  obtain  no  refreshment  for  him 
or  herself. 

His  first  words  were,  "  I  hoped  you  would  not 
follow  me  ;  for  you  cannot  live  here."  The  corner 
of  a  filthy  hut  furnished  shelter  for  the  night,  and 
after  drinking  a  little  half-boiled  water,  Mrs  Judson 
lay  down  upon  a  mat  and  slept. 

In  this  abode  she  spent  the  next  six  months  ; 
without  any  furniture,  even  a  chair,  or  seat  of  any 
kind. 

The  very  morning  after  her  arrival  at  Oung-pen- 
la,  the  Burman  child,  who  was  able  to  assist  in  the 
care  of  the  babe,  was  taken  with  the  small  pox. 


256  MRS    JUDSON. 

No  assistance,  or  medicine,  could  be  procured.  All 
day  long  Mrs  Judson  was  going  from  the  prison  to 
the  hut,  and  from  the  hut  to  the  prison,  with  her 
infant  in  her  arms.  Sometimes  she  obtained  a 
little  relief  by  leaving  the  child  asleep  with  its 
father.  The  little  Burman  was  delirious  with  a 
a  raging  fever,  and  the  babe  took  her  dreadful  dis- 
order. This  was  a  load  of  misery  that  seems  al- 
most too  much  for  mortal  strength.  The  children 
at  last  recovered ;  but  Mrs  Judson  sunk  under 
her  extraordinary  exertions.  She  became  so 
weak  as  to  be  scarcely  able  to  walk  to  the  prison. 
In  this  debilitated  state  she  set  off  in  a  cart  for 
Ava,  in  order  to  procure  some  medicines  she  had 
left  there.  There  her  disorder  became  so  violent, 
that  she  had  no  hope  of  recovery.  She  says  :  "  My 
only  anxiety  now  was  to  return  to  Oung-pen-la, 
to  die  near  the  prison."  Frequent  doses  of  lauda- 
num so  far  subdued  the  disease,  that  the  sufferer 
was  enabled  to  set  off.  It  was  in  the  rainy  sea- 
son, and  the  oxen,  that  dragged  the  heavy  cart, 
were  half  buried  in  mud. 

Nature  was  almost  exhausted,  when  she  arrived 
at  Oung-pen-la.  The  good  native  cook  was  so 
much  affected  by  her  emaciated  appearance,  that 
he  burst  into  tears.  This  faithful  creature  seemed 
to  be  the  only  solace  left  in  their  forlorn  condition. 
The  babe,  deprived  of  her  usual  nourishment  by 
her  mother's  illness,  was  a  source  of  constant 
anxiety,  particularly  as  no  nurse  could  be  obtained. 
By  making  presents  to  the  jailors,  Mr  Judson  ob- 


MRS    JUDSON.  257 

tained  leave  to  carry  the  poor  famishing  thing  round 
the  village,  and  appeal  to  the  compassion  of  mothers. 
Sometimes,  too,  the  almost  dying  wife  was  indulged 
in  the  "  unspeakable  consolation,"  of  seeing  her 
husband  for  a  little  while.  But  in  general,  they 
suffered  under  the  same  system  of  extortion  and 
petty  tyranny. 

The  execution  of  the  prisoners  was  prevented  by 
the  death  of  the  king's  brother,  who  had  sent  word 
to  keep  them,  till  he  came  to  witness  it :  luckily 
for  their  peace  of  mind,  they  did  not  know  of  this 
circumstance  till  the  danger  was  past.  At  last, 
the  hour  of  deliverance  came.  The  English,  uni- 
formly victorious,  compelled  the  Burmans  to  sub- 
mit to  such  terms  as  they  proposed ;  and  theii  first 
demand  was  the  release  of  all  English  and  Ameri- 
can captives.  How  joyfully  these  tidings  must 
have  sounded,  after  such  a  long,  dark  season  of  de- 
spondency !  Mrs  Judson  says  :  "  It  was  on  a 
cool,  moonlight  evening  in  the  month  of  March, 
1826,  that  with  hearts  filled  with  gratitude  to  God, 
and  overflowing  with  joy  at  our  prospects,  we  passed 
down  the  Irawaddy,  surrounded  by  six  or  eight 
golden  boats,  and  accompanied  by  all  we  had  on 
on  earth.  For  the  first  time,  for  more  than  a  year 
and  a  half,  we  felt  that  we  were  free." 

Sir  Archibald  Campbell,  the  English  commander, 
treated  them  with  the  utmost  respect  and  attention. 
A  tent  near  his  own  was  erected  for  them  while 
they  remained  in  the  camp,  and  a  large  gun-boat 
was  provided  to  convey  them  in  safety  to  Rangoon 
17 


258  MRS    JUDSON. 

It  may  well  be  imagined  that  their  friends  re- 
ceived them  with  great  joy,  after  being  entirely 
ignorant  of  their  fate  for  nearly  two  years.  During 
the  latter  part  of  their  captivity,  Mrs  Judson  had 
twice  been  brought  to  the  very  brink  of  the  grave  : 
indeed,  once,  after  their  removal  from  Oung-pen-la, 
before  they  came  under  the  protection  of  the  Eng- 
lish, she  was  supposed  to  be  quite  dead.  These 
shocks  had  enfeebled  her  constitution  ;  but  she  was 
restored  to  tolerable  health,  and  was  able  to  nurse 
her  feeble  little  infant. 

Soon  after  their  return  to  Rangoon,  Mr  Judson 
was  obliged  to  leave  her  for  a  short  time,  on  busi- 
ness connected  with  the  missionary  establishment. 
In  a  letter  to  her  mother,  he  says  :  "  Our  parting  was 
much  less  painful  than  many  others  had  been.  We 
had  been  preserved  through  so  many  trials  and  vi- 
cissitudes, that,  a  separation  of  three  or  four  months, 
attended  with  no  hazards  to  either  party,  seemed 
a  light  thing.  We  parted,  therefore,  with  cheerful 
hearts,  confident  of  a  speedy  re-union,  and  indulg- 
ing fond  anticipations  of  future  years  of  domestic 
happiness.  In  a  letter  to  me  dated  14th  of  Sep- 
tember, my  wife  wrote,  '  For  the  first  time,  since  we 
were  broken  up  at  Ava,  I  feel  myself  at  home 
Poor  little  Maria  is  still  feeble.  I  sometimes  hope 
she  is  getting  better ;  then  again  she  declines  to 
her  former  weakness.  When  I  ask  her  where 
Papa  is,  she  always  starts  up  and  points  toward  the 
sea.  May  God  preserve  and  bless  you,  and  restore 
you  to  your  new  and  old  home,  is  the  prayer  of 
your  affectionate  Ann.'  " 


MRS   JUDSO  N.  259 

This  was  the  last  letter  the  wanderer  received. 
The  home  to  which  he  returned  was  desolate  in- 
deed. 

Early  in  December,  Mrs  Judson  was  attacked 
with  a  violent  fever,  which  continued  more  or  less 
severe  until  she  died.  During  her  illness,  she  ex- 
pressed regret  at  leaving  her  schools  before  other 
missionaries  arrived  ;  but  her  head  was  much  af- 
fected, and  for  the  last  few  days  she  said  but  little. 
Once  she  murmured,  "  The  teacher  is  long  in  com- 
ing :  1  must  die  alone,  and  leave  my  little  one  ; 
but  I  acquiesce  in  the  will  of  God.  I  am  not 
afraid  of  death,  but  I  am  afraid  J  shall  not  be  able 
to  bear  these  pains.  Tell  the  teacher  the  disease 
was  most  violent,  and  I  could  not  write;  tell  him 
how  I  suffered  and  died ;  tell  him  all  that  you  see  ; 
and  take  care  of  all  things  till  he  returns."  When 
unable  to  notice  anything  else,  she  still  asked  to 
see  her  child,  and  charged  the  nurse  to  indulge  it 
in  everything,  until  its  father  came  home.  At 
eight  o'clock  on  the  evening  of  the  24th  of  Decem- 
ber, with  one  exclamation  of  distress,  in  the  Burman 
language,  she  expired. 

In  letters  written  soon  after  her  decease,  Mr 
Judson  says :  "  The  news  of  the  death  of  my  be- 
loved wife  has  thrown  a  gloom  over  all  my  future 
prospects,  and  forever  embittered  the  recollection 
of  the  present  journey,  in  consequence  of  which  I 
was  absent  from  her  dying  bed,  and  prevented 
from  affording  the  spiritual  comfort  her  lonely  cir- 
cumstances peculiarly  required  :  and  of  contribut- 
ing to  avert  the  fatal  catastrophe,  which  has  de- 


260  MRS    JCDSON. 

prived  me  of  the  first  of  women  and  the  best  of 
wives. 

"  It  affords  me  some  comfort,  that  she  not  only 
consented  to  my  leaving  her,  but  uniformly  gave  her 
advice  in  favor  of  the  measure,  whenever  I  hesi- 
tated concerning  my  duty.  The  doctor  thinks  her 
last  illness  was  occasioned  by  the  severe  privations, 
and  long  protracted  sufferings,  she  had  undergone. 
With  what  meekness,  patience,  magnanimity  and 
Christian  fortitude,  did  she  endure  those  sufferings! 
But  can  I  wish  they  had  been  less?  Can  I  wish 
to  rob  her  crown  of  a  single  gem  ?  Much  she  saw 
and  suffered  of  the  evil  of  this  evil  world ;  and 
eminently  was  she  qualified  to  enjoy  the  pure  and 
holy  rest  into  which  she  has  entered.  True,  she  has 
been  taken  from  a  sphere,  in  which  she  was  singu- 
larly qualified,  by  her  natural  disposition,  her  win- 
ning manners,  her  devoted  zeal,  and  her  perfect 
acquaintance  with  the  language,  to  be  extensively 
serviceable  to  the  cause  of  Christ ;  true,  she  has  been 
torn  from  her  husband's  bleeding  heart,  and  from 
her  darling  babe  ;  but  infinite  wisdom  and  love  have 
presided,  as  ever,  in  this  afflicting  dispensation." 

One  of  the  English  prisoners,  who  had  been  con- 
fined with  Mr  Judson,  pays  the  following  tribute 
to  the  memory  of  this  excellent  woman. 

"  Mrs  Judson  was  the  author  of  those  eloquent 
and  forcible  appeals  to  the  government,  which 
prepared  them  by  degrees  for  submission  to  terms 
of  peace,  never  expected  by  any,  who  knew  the  in- 
flexible pride  of  the  Burman  court. 


MRS    JUDSON.  261 

"  The  overflowing  of  my  grateful  feelings,  on 
behalf  of  myself  and  fellow  prisoners,  compel  me 
to  add  a  tribute  of  public  thanks  to  that  amiable 
and  humane  woman,  who,  though  living  at  a  dis- 
tance of  two  miles  from  our  prison,  without  means 
of  conveyance,  and  very  feeble  in  health,  forgot 
her  own  comfort  and  infirmity,  and  almost  every 
day  visited  us,  sought  out  and  administered  to  our 
wants,  and  contributed  in  every  way  to  alleviate 
our  misery. 

"  While  the  government  left  us  destitute  of  food, 
she,  with  unwearied  perseverance,  by  some  means 
or  other,  obtained  for  us  a  constant  supply.  When 
our  tattered  clothes  evinced  the  extremity  of  our 
distress,  she  was  ever  ready  to  replenish  our  scanty 
wardrobe.  When  the  unfeeling  avarice  of  our 
keepers  confined  us  inside,  or  made  our  feet  fast  in 
the  stocks,  she,  like  a  ministering  angel,  never 
ceased  her  applications  to  the  government,  until 
she  was  authorized  to  communicate  the  grateful 
news  of  our  enlargement,  or  of  some  respite  from 
our  galling  oppressions."  *  *  * 

In  a  few  short  months,  good  angels  carried  the 
little  orphan  Maria  to  the  mother  by  whom  she 
was  so  fondly  loved.  They  are  placed  side  by  side 
in  that  distant  land,  under  the  wide-spreading 
branches  of  the  Hope-tree.*  Two  marbles,  erect- 
ed by  the  Board  of  Missions,  comme.norate  depart- 
ed innocence  and  virtue. 

*  Hopia. 


MRS     EXPERIENCE    WEST, 

WIFE    OF  REV.    DR    SAMUEL    WEST. 


"  His  head  was  silvered  o'er  with  age, 
And  long  experience  made  him  sage." 


ALL  who  reside  in  that  part  of  Massachusetts 
called  "  the  old  Colony,"  remember  Father  West. 
He  was  born  in  Yarmouth,  in  1730.  He  remain- 
ed with  his  respectable  parents,  and  labored  on 
their  farm,  till  he  was  past  twenty  years  of  age. 
His  extraordinary  capacity  for  learning  attracted 
the  attention  of  some  intelligent  and  benevolent 
men,  by  whose  assistance  he  was  enabled  to  enter 
Harvard  University.  His  whole  soul  was  so  en- 
tirely engrossed  by  study,  that  he  neglected  the 
usual  courtesies  of  life.  When  he  walked  to  Cam- 
bridge, to  be  examined  for  admission  to  the  college, 
he  took  off  his  shoes  and  stockings,  and  slung  them 
over  his  shoulder,  to  relieve  his  hot  and  dusty  feet. 
A  scholar  who  offered  himself  in  this  style,  of  course 
excited  some  merriment ;  but  the  government  soon 
found  that  he  was  not  a  proper  object  for  ridicule  j 
he  disputed  with  them  about  Greek  and  Latin  de- 


MRS    EXPERIENCE    WEST.  263 

rivations,  till  they  were  obliged  to  yield  to  their  un- 
couth pupil. 

His  talents  and  erudition  gave  him  a  very  dis- 
tinguished rank  in  his  class.  In  1764,  he  was 
ordained  at  New  Bedford,  where  he  remained  pas- 
tor fortythree  years.  He  was  one  of  the  first  men 
in  New  England  for  profound  scriptural  knowledge ; 
but  he  was  not  a  popular  preacher. 

His  mind  was  so  absorbed  in  metaphysics,  that 
he  would  continue  an  argument  with  his  pupils 
from  Monday  morning  till  Saturday  night,  and  on 
the  next  Monday  morning  take  up  the  thread  ex- 
actly where  he  had  left  it.  No  wonder  his  attention 
was  somewhat  abstracted  from  his  sermons  !  It  is 
said  that  he  often  preached  the  same  discourse 
week  after  week.  Upon  one  occasion,  his  daugh- 
ter, finding  the  people  were  very  weary  of  a  sermon 
about  Zaccheus  in  the  tree,  turned  down  the  leaf 
upon  a  new  text  and  left  the  Bible  open  on  his 
desk,  the  next  Sabbath  :  Father  West,  unconscious 
of  the  mano3uvre,  preached  on  the  passage  she  had 
pointed  out ;  every  sentence  of  Scripture  was  so 
familiar  to  his  memory,  that  preparation  was  un- 
necessary. 

This  abstractedness  of  mind  naturally  made  him 
very  peculiar  in  his  domestic  habits.  Innumera- 
ble stories  are  told  of  his  eccentricities.  Among 
other  things,  he  is  said  to  have  been  seen  going  to 
mill  with  the  corn  on  his  own  back  while  he  led  the 
horse.  Indeed  nothing  could  exceed  his  awkward- 
ness in  all  the  common  affairs  of  life:  he  could  re- 


264  MRS     EXPERIENCE    WEST. 

member  nothing  except  what  was  contained  in 
books. 

The  wonder  is  that  he  should  ever  have  married 
anything  but  a  Hebrew  Grammar.  Fortunately, 
his  absence  of  mind  did  not  extend  to  matrimony  ; 
and  his  good  luck,  or  his  discrimination,  led  him  to 
choose  a  very  intelligent,  prudent,  amiable  woman, 
who  knew  how  to  appreciate  his  talents  and  respect 
his  virtues,  while  her  discreet  management  supplied 
all  his  deficiencies. 

He  was  sensible  of  her  worth,  and  praised  it  in 
his  own  odd  way.  In  allusion  to  her  tall  stature, 
he  used  often  to  say  to  his  friends,  "  I  have  found 
by  long  experience  that  it  is  good  to  be  married." 

Doctor  West  was  a  zealous  whig;  during  the 
revolutionary  struggle,  he  wrote  many  powerful  ar- 
ticles for  the  newspapers.  He  deciphered  the  fa- 
mous letter  of  Doctor  Church,  which  exposed  to  the 
enemy  the  particular  state  of  the  American  army  ; 
after  puzzling  over  it  several  days  he  suddenly 
thought  of  the  solution  at  midnight ;  and  jumping 
from  his  bed,  he  capered  about  the  room  exclaim- 
ing, like  Archimedes,  "I  have  got  it!  I  have  got 
it!" 

In  person  and  manners  Doctor  West  bore  a 
strong  resemblance  to  the  celebrated  Doctor  John- 
son. The  epithet  of  Father,  was  universally  be- 
stowed upon  him  ;  it  probably  originated  in  vene- 
ration for  his  extraordinary  powers  of  mind,  and 
the  honesty,  sincerity,  and  benevolence  of  his 
heart. 


LADY  ARABELLA  JOHNSON. 

WIFE    OF    MR    ISAAC    JOHNSON. 

ALTHOUGH  the  History  of  Lady  Arabella  John- 
son is  familiar  to  every  one,  it  would  be  wrong  to 
omit  all  mention  of  her  well-tried  and  faithful  af- 
fection, in  a  book  intended  as  a  monument  to  ex- 
emplary wives.  She  was  daughter  of  Thomas, 
Earl  of  Lincoln;  a  family  which  Mather  pronoun- 
ces "  The  best  of  any  nobleman  then  in  England." 

The  Lady  Arabella  married  Mr  Isaac  Johnson, 
an  intelligent  and  pious  gentleman,  conscientious- 
ly devoted  to  the  cause  of  civil  and  religious  free- 
dom. His  heroic  wife  entered  zealously  into  his 
views,  although  she  was  perfectly  aware  that  they 
must  be  pursued  at  the  sacrifice  of  personal  indul- 
gence and  worldly  splendor. 

She  left  her  magnificent  home,  and  cheerfully 
accompanied  her  husband  to  the  wilderness  of  New 
England.  They  arrived  at  Salem,  then  called 
Naumkeag,  in  the  ship  Arabella,  April,  1630. 

Winthrop,  in  his  Journal,  praises  the  conduct  of 
the  ladies  on  board,  at  a  time  when  they  expected 
a  battle  with  a  fleet  of  Dunkirkers  :  He  says,  "  It 
was  much  to  see  how  cheerful  and  comfortable  all 


266  LADY    ARABELLA    JOHNSON. 

the  company  appeared :  not  a  woman  or  child  that 
shewed  fear,  though  all  did  apprehend  the  danger 
to  have  been  great."  Luckily,  their  fortitude  was 
not  put  to  the  severest  proof:  for  on  a  near  ap- 
proach the  vessels  proved  to  be  friends. 

Mr  Isaac  Johnson  is  generally  considered  the 
founder  of  Boston  ;  and  though  he  was  not  long 
spared  to  the  infant  colony,  no  one  will  dispute  his 
right  to  a  title,  which  he  gained  by  discreet  coun- 
sels, active  services,  and  generous  funds.  His 
wife  cheered  him  onward  in  the  arduous  path  of 
duty,  never  complaining  of  privations,  or  mourning 
over  lost  indulgences. 

Her  excellent  character  and  gentle  manners 
gained  universal  respect  and  attachment  ;  and 
in  the  records  of  those  times,  her  name  is  always 
mentioned  with  veneration. 

Her  health  began  to  fail  soon  after  her  arrival  in 
New  England ;  and  she  died  in  the  beginning  of 
September  1630.  Her  husband  did  not  sorrow  as 
one  without  hope,  but  as  one  for  whom  this  world 
affords  no  consolation.  He  endeavored  to  perform 
the  duties  of  his  station,  as  faithfully,  if  not  as 
cheerfully,  as  he  had  done.  His  whole  deportment 
spoke  Christian  resignation,  but  it  was  plain  to  all 
who  saw  him,  that  his  heart  was  ever  with  her  who 
had  loved  him  so  well. 

God,  in  his  mercy,  soon  restored  them  to  each 
other;  Mr  Johnson  survived  Lady  Arabella,  little 
more  than  a  month.  "  He  was,"  says  Winthrop, 
"  a  holy  and  wise  man,  and  died  in  sweet  peace." 


MRS    WINTHROP, 

WIFE    OF    HON.    JOHN    WINTHROP. 

THOSE  who  do  not  smile  at  all  expressions  of 
mutual  affection  in  print,  will  find  pleasure  in  the 
following  correspondence  between  the  first  Governor 
of  Massachusetts  and  his  excellent  lady.  We  are  so 
apt  to  regard  our  forefathers  only  as  men  stern  and 
inflexible  in  their  sense  of  duty,  that  it  is  indeed 
refreshing  to  soften  the  picture  with  the  mild 
coloring  of  domestic  happiness.  These  letters  are 
peculiarly  interesting ;  because  the  writers  had 
been  many  years  married,  and  had  arrived  at  that 
sober  meridian  of  life,  when  the  worldly  and  the  pro- 
fligate would  make  us  believe  that  love  is  considered 
as  the  mere  idle  dream  of  youth. 

[The  following  letter  was  probably  written  in  1624,  or  1625.] 
"  MOST  DEAR  AND  LOVING  HUSBAND,  —  I  cannot 
express  my  love  to  you  as  I  desire,  in  these  poor, 
lifeless  lines  ;  but  I  do  heartily  wish  you  did  see 
my  heart,  how  true  and  faithful  it  is  to  you,  and 
how  much  I  do  desire  to  be  always  with  you,  to 
enjoy  the  sweet  comfort  of  your  presence,  and  those 
helps  from  you  in  spiritual  and  temporal  duties, 


268  MRS    WINTHROP. 

which  I  am  so  unfit  to  perform  without  you.  It 
makes  me  to  see  the  want  of  you,  and  wish  myself 
with  you.  But  I  desire  we  may  be  guided  by  God 
in  all  our  ways,  who  is  able  to  direct  us  for  the 
best ;  and  so  I  will  wait  upon  him  with  patience, 
who  is  all  sufficient  for  me.  Desiring  to  be  remem- 
bered in  your  prayers,  I  bid  my  good  husband  good 
night.  Farewell.  Your  obedient  wife, 

MARGARET  WINTHROP." 

[In  1627,  or  1628.] 

"Mv  MOST  SWEET  HUSBAND,  —  How  dearly  wel- 
come thy  kind  letter  was  to  me,  1  am  not  able  to 
express.  The  sweetness  of  it  did  much  refresh  me. 
What  can  be  more  pleasing  to  a  wife,  than  to  hear 
of  the  welfare  of  her  best  beloved,  and  how  he  is 
pleased  with  her  poor  endeavors  !  I  blush  to  hear 
myself  commended,  knowing  my  own  wants.  But 
it  is  your  love  that  conceives  the  best,  and  makes 
all  things  seem  better  than  they  are.  I  wish  that 
I  may  be  always  pleasing  to  thee,  and  that  those 
comforts  we  have  in  each  other  may  be  daily  in- 
creased, as  far  as  they  may  be  pleasing  to  God.  I 
will  use  that  speech  to  thee,  that  Abigail  did  to 
David  ;  '  I  will  be  a  servant  to  wash  the  feet  of  my 
lord.'  I  will  do  any  service  wherein  I  may  please 
my  good  husband.  I  confess  I  cannot  do  enough 
for  thee  ;  but  thou  art  pleased  to  accept  the  will 
for  the  deed,  and  rest  contented. 

"  I  have  many  reasons  to  make  me  love  thee, 
whereof  I  will  name  two  :  first,  because  thou  lovest 


MRSWINTHROP.  269 

God ;  and  secondly,  because  thou  lovest  me.  If 
these  two  were  wanting,  all  the  rest  would  be 
eclipsed.  But  I  must  leave  this  discourse,  and  go 
about  my  household  affairs.  I  am  a  bad  housewife 
to  be  so  long  from  them  ;  but  I  must  needs  borrow 
a  little  time  to  talk  with  thee,  my  sweet  heart.  I 
hope  thy  business  draws  to  an  end.  It  will  be  but 
two  or  three  weeks  before  I  see  thee,  though  they 
be  long  ones.  God  will  bring  us  together  in  his 
good  time ;  for  which  time  I  shall  pray.  _ 

Farewell,  my  good  husband  ;  the  Lord  keep  thee. 
Your  obedient  wife, 

MARGARET   WINTHROP." 

"  I  did  dine  at  Groton  Hall  yesterday  ;  they  are 
in  health,  and  remember  their  love.  We  did  wish 
you  there,  but  that  would  not  bring  you,  and  I 
could  not  be  merry  without  thee." 

[1629.] 

"  MY  GOOD  WIFE,  —  Although  I  wrote  to  thee 
last  week,  yet,  having  so  fit  opportunity,  I  must 
needs  write  to  thee  again  ;  for  I  do  esteem  one  little 
sweet,  short  letter  of  thine  (such  as  the  last  was) 
to  be  well  worthy  two  or  three  from  me. 

I  began  this  letter  yesterday  at  two  o'clock, 
thinking  to  have  been  large,  but  was  so  taken  up 
by  company  and  business,  as  I  could  get  but  hither 
by  this  morning.  It  grieves  me  that  I  have  not 
liberty  to  make  better  expression  of  my  love  to 
thee,  who  art  more  dear  to  me  than  all  earthly 


270  MRS    WINTHROP. 

things  ;  but  I  will  endeavor  that  my  prayers  may 
supply  the  defect  of  my  pen,  which  will  be  of  use 
to  us  both,  inasmuch  as  the  favor  and  blessing  of 
God  is  better  than  all  things  besides. 

"  I  know  thou  lookest  for  troubles  here,  and  when 
one  affliction  is  over,  to  meet  with  another  ;  but 
remember  our  Saviour  tells  us  '  Be  of  good  com- 
fort, I  have  overcome  the  world.'  Therefore,  my 
sweet  wife,  raise  up  thy  heart,  and  be  not  dismayed 
at  the  crosses  thou  meetest  with  in  family  affairs, 
or  otherwise ;  but  still  fly  to  him,  who  will  take  up 
thy  burden  for  thee.  Go  thou  on  cheerfully,  in 
obedience  to  his  holy  will,  in  the  course  he  hath 
set  thee.  Peace  shall  come.  I  commend  thee 
and  all  thine  to  the  gracious  protection  and  blessing 
of  the  Lord. 

"  Farewell,  my  good  wife.     I  kiss  and  love  thee 
with  the  kindest  affection,  arid  rest, 
Thy  faithful  husband, 

JOHN  WINTHROP." 

[1629.] 
"  MOST    LOVING    AND  GOOD    HUSBAND, I     have 

received  your  letters.  The  true  tokens  of  your 
love  and  care  of  my  good,  now  in  your  absence,  as 
well  as  when  you  are  present,  make  me  think  that 
saying  false,  '  out  of  sight,  out  of  mind.'  I  am  sure 
my  heart  and  thoughts  are  always  near  you,  to  '  do 
you  good  and  not  evil  all  the  days  of  my  life.'  I 
rejoice  in  the  expectation  of  our  happy  meeting  ; 
for  thy  absence  has  been  very  long  in  my  conceit, 


MRS    WINTHROP.  271 

and  thy  presence  much  desired.     Thy  welcome  is 
always  ready  ;  make  haste  to  entertain  it. 

"  And  so  I  bid  my  good  husband  farewell,  and 
commit  him  to  the  Lord, 

Your  loving  and  obedient  wife, 

MARGARET  WINTHROP." 

[After  having  decided  upon  coming  to  New  England,  Mr 
VVinthrop  writes  thus,  in  1629.] 

"  I  must  now  begin  to  prepare  thee  for  our  long 
parting,  which  grows  very  near.  I  know  not  how 
to  deal  with  thee  by  arguments  ;  for  if  thou  wert  as 
wise  as  ever  woman  was,  yet  it  must  needs  be  a 
great  trial  to  ihee,  and  the  greater,  because  I  am 
so  dear  to  thee.  That  which  I  must  chiefly  look 
at  in  thee,  for  a  ground  of  contentment,  is  thy  god- 
liness. If  now  the  Lord  be  thy  God,  thou  must 
show  it  by  trusting  in  him,  and  resigning  thyself 
quietly  to  his  good  pleasure.  The  best  course  is 
to  turn  all  our  reasons  and  discourse  into  prayers  ; 
for  he  only  can  help,  who  is  Lord  of  sea  and  land, 
and  hath  sole  power  over  life  and  death.  So  I 
kiss  my  sweet  wife,  and  rest, 

Thy  faithful  husband, 

Jo.  WINTHROP." 

[FEBRUARY  14,  1629.] 

"  MY  SWEET  WIFE,  —  The  opportunity  of  so  fit  a 
messenger,  and  my  deep  engagement  of  affection 
to  thee,  makes  me  write  at  this  time,  though  I 


272  MRS   WINTHROP. 

hope  to  follow  soon  after.  The  Lord  our  God  hath 
oft  brought  us  together  with  comfort,  when  we 
have  been  long  absent:  and,  if  it  be  good  for  us, 
he  will  do  so  still.  When  I  was  in  Ireland,  he 
brought  us  together  again.  When  I  was  sick  here 
at  London,  he  restored  us  together  again.  How 
many  dangers  near  death  hast  thou  been  in  thyself! 
and  yet  the  Lord  hath  granted  me  to  enjoy  thee 
still.  If  he  did  not  watch  over  us,  we  need  not  go 
over  sea  to  seek  death,  or  misery  ;  we  should  meet 
it  at  every  step  ;  in  every  journey.  And  is  not  he 
a  God  abroad  as  well  as  at  home  ?  Is  not  his  pow- 
er and  providence  the  same  in  New  England  that 
it  hath  been  in  Old  England? 

"  My  good  wife,  trust  in  the  Lord.  He  will  be 
better  to  thee  than  any  husband,  and  will  restore 
thee  thy  husband  with  advantage.  I  bless  thee 
and  ours,  and  rest,  Thine  ever, 

Jo.  WINTHROP." 

"  Thou  must  be  my  Valentine,  for  none  hath 
challenged  me."* 

"  MY   MOST  DEAR  HUSBAND,  I  should  llOt  HOW 

omit  any  opportunity  of  writing  to  thee,  consider- 
ing I  shall  not  long  have  thee  to  write  unto.  But, 
by  reason  of  my  unfitness  at  this  time,  I  must 
entreat  thee  to  accept  of  a  few  lines  from  me,  and 
not  impute  it  to  any  want  of  love,  or  neglect  of  my 
duty  to  thee,  to  whom  I  owe  more  than  I  ever  shall 
be  able  to  express. 

*  The  writer  was  past  forty  years  old. 


MRS    WINTHROP.  273 

"  My  request  now  shall  be  to  the  Lord  to  prosper 
thee  in  thy  voyage,  and  enable  thee  and  fit  thee 
for  it,  and  give  all  graces  and  gifts  for  such  em- 
ployments as  he  shall  call  thee  to.  I  trust  God  will 
once  more  bring  us  together  before  you  go,  th  at 
we  may  see  each  other  with  gladness,  and  take 
solemn  leave,  till  we,  through  the  goodness  of  our 
God,  shall  meet  in  New  England,  which  will  be 
a  joyful  day  to  us.  With  my  best  wishes  to  God 
for  thy  health  and  welfare,  I  take  my  leave  and 
rest,  thy  faithful,  obedient  wife, 

MARGARET  WINTHROP." 
MARCH,  1629. 

"  MINE  OWN  DEAR  HEART,  —  I  must  confess 
thou  hast  overcome  me  with  thy  exceeding  great 
love,  and  those  abundant  expressions  of  it  in  thy 
sweet  letters,  which  savor  of  more  than  an  ordinary 
spirit  of  love  and  piety.  Blessed  be  the  Lord  our 
God,  that  gives  strength  and  comfort  to  thee  to  un- 
dergo this  great  trial,  which  I  must  confess,  would 
be  too  heavy  for  thee,  if  the  Lord  did  not  put  under 
his  hand  in  so  gracious  a  measure.  Let  this  ex- 
perience of  his  faithfulness  to  thee  in  this  first  trial, 
be  a  ground  to  establish  thy  heart  to  believe  and 
expect  his  help  in  all  that  may  follow.  It  grieveth 
me  much,  that  I  want  time  and  freedom  of  mind 
to  discourse  with  thee.  my  faithful  yokefellow,  in 
those  things  which  thy  sweet  letters  offer  me  so 
plentiful  occasion  for.  I  beseech  the  Lord,  I  may 
have  liberty  to  supply  it,  ere  I  depart ;  for  I  cannot 
thus  leave  thee. 

18 


274  MRS    VVINTHROP. 

"  Mine  only  best  beloved,  I  beseech  the  good 
Lord  to  take  care  of  thee  and  thine  ;  to  seal  up  his 
loving  kindness  to  thy  soul ;  to  fill  thee  with  the 
sweet  comfort  of  his  presence,  that  may  uphold 
thee  in  this  time  of  trial;  and  grant  that  we  may 
see  the  faces  of  each  other  again  in  the  time  ex- 
pected. So,  loving  thee  truly,  and  tender  of  thy 
welfare,  studying  to  bestow  thee  save,  where  I  may 
have  thee  again,  I  leave  thee  in  the  arms  of  our 
sweet  Saviour.  Ever  thine, 

Jo.  WINTHROP." 

[From  the  Arabella,  riding  at  the  Cowes,  he  thus  writes.] 

MARCH  28th,  1630. 

"MY  FAITHFUL    AND    DEAR    WIFE.  Arid  HOW  I 

must  once  again  take  my  farewell  of  thee  in  Old 
England.  It  goeth  very  near  my  heart  to  leave 
thee.  I  know  to  whom  I  have  committed  thee  ; 
even  to  him  who  loves  thee  much  better  than  any 
husband  can,  who,  if  it  be  for  his  glory,  will  bring 
us  together  again  with  peace  and  comfort.  Oh,  how 
itrefresheth  my  heart,  to  think,  that  I  shall  yet  again 
see  thy  sweet  face  in  the  land  of  the  living  ;  —  that 
lovely  countenance,  that  I  have  so  much  delighted 
in,  and  beheld  with  so  great  content ! 

"  I  hope  the  course  we  have  agreed  upon  will  be 
some  ease  to  us  both.  Mondays  and  Fridays,  at 
five  of  the  clock  at  night,  we  shall  meet  in  spirit 
till  we  meet  in  person.  Yet  if  all  these  hopes  should 
fail,  blessed  be  our  God,  we  are  assured  that  we 
shall  meet  one  day,  in  a  better  condition.  Let 
that  stay  and  comfort  thy  heart.  Commend  my 


MRS    WINTHROP.  275 

blessing  to  rny  son  John.  Tell  him  I  have  com- 
mitted thee  and  thine  to  him.  Labor  to  draw  him 
yet  nearer  to  God,  and  he  will  be  the  surer  staff  of 
comfort  to  thee.  Thine  wheresoever, 

Jo.  WINTHROP." 

[While  the  vessel  was  riding  before  the  Isle  of  Wight,  he 
again  writes :] 

"  Mi"  LOVE,  MY  JOY,  MY  FAITHFUL  ONE,  I  SUp- 

pose  thou  didst  not  expect  to  have*  any  more  letters 
from  me  till  the  return  of  our  ships;  but  so  is  the 
good  pleasure  of  God,  that  the  winds  should  not  serve 
yet  to  carry  us  hence.  I  desire  to  resign  myself 
wholly  to  his  gracious  disposing.  Oh,  that  I  had  a 
heart  so  to  do,  and  to  trust  perfectly  in  him  for 
his  assistance  in  all  our  ways. 

"  This  is  the  third  letter  I  have  written  to  thee, 
since  I  came  to  Hampton,  in  requital  of  those  t\vo 
I  received  from  thee,  which  I  do  often  read  with 
much  delight,  apprehending  so  much  love  and 
sweet  affection  in  them,  as  I  am  never  satisfied 
with  reading,  nor  can  read  them  without  tears. 
Oh,  my  dear  heart,  Fever  held  thee  in  high  esteem, 
as  thy  love  and  goodness  hath  well  deserved;  but 
(if  it  be  possible)  I  shall  yet  prize  thy  virtue  at  a 
greater  rate,  and  long  more  to  enjoy  thy  sweet 
society  than  ever  before.  I  am  sure  thou  art  not 
short  of  me  in  this  wish.  Let  us  pray  hard,  and 
pray  in  faith,  and  our  God,  in  his  good  time,  will 
accomplish  our  desire.  Oh,  how  loth  I  am  to  bid 
thee  farewell !  but,  since  it  must  be,  farewell,  my 
sweet  love,  farewell.  I  take  thee  and  my  dear 


276  MRS    WINTHROP. 

children  in  mine  arms,  and  kiss  and  embrace  you 
all,  and  so  leave  you  with  my  God. 

Thy  faithful  husband,  Jo.  WJNTHROP." 

After  Mr  Winthrop  arrived  in  New  England, 
his  letters  to  his  wife  breathe  the  same  affectionate 
spirit,  and  earnest  wish  for  her  society. 

She  followed  her  husband  in  about  a  year.  In 
a  letter  to  her  son,  announcing  her  approaching 
departure  from  England,  she  writes:  "  Mr  Wilson 
is  now  in  London.  He  cannot  yet  persuade  his  wife 
to  go,  for  all  he  hath  taken  this  pains  to  come  and 
fetch  her.  I  marvel  what  mettle  she  is  made  of." 

Governor  Winthrop  and  his  lady  met  in  safety, 
and  lived  long  to  bless  the  colony  to  whose  interests 
they  had  devoted  themselves. 

In  manners,  they  were  dignified,  but  condescend- 
ing ;  and  in  character  truly  upright  and  benevolent. 
Being  once  informed  that  a  poor  man  stole  his 
wood,  the  Governor  replied  in  seeming  anger,  that 
he  would  soon  cure  him  of  stealing.  When  the 
man  appeared,  he  said,  "  Friend,  it  is  a  severe 
winter,  arid  I  hear  you  are  poor.  Help  yourself 
from  my  pile  till  the  winter  is  over.''  He  after- 
ward said  to  his  informer,  "  Have  I  not  put  a  slop 
to  his  stealing  ?" 

Governor  Winthrop  was  elected  again  and 
again,  until  worn  out  with  toils,  he  died  in  the  six- 
tythird  year  of  his  age,  March,  1649.  Though 
rich  when  he  came  to  this  country,  he  died  poor. 

It  is  unnecessary  here  to  pay  a  tribute  to  his  ex- 
alted character  ;  his  name  adorns  the  history  with 
which  it  is  so  honorably  associated. 


MRS     REISKE, 

WIFE    OF    JOHN     JAMES     REISKE. 

J.  J.  REISKE,  a  very  distinguished  German  phi- 
lologist, was  born  at  Zorbig,  a  small  village  in  Sax- 
ony, in  171(3.  This  colossus  of  languages  was  the 
son  of  a  tanner,  who  could  not  afford  to  do  much 
for  his  education.  He  studied  by  himself,  without 
method,  but  with  abundance  of  zeal.  His  talents 
and  learning  soon  became  known,  and  obtained 
for  him  an  easy  access  to  valuable  libraries  ;  but 
a  rash  temper,  and  blunt  independence  of  manner, 
embroiled  him  in  continual  quarrels,  and  kept  him 
poor  ;  so  poor,  that  he  sometimes  knew  not  where 
to  obtain  bread.  But  although,  during  his  lifetime, 
Reiske  might  have  said,  withthe  scholar  in  the  Old 
Drama,  —  '*  I  know  not  what  good  my  learning  doth 
me,  except  that  I  can  call  myself  a  beggar  both  in 
Greek  and  Latin"  —  yet  he  was  proudly  conscious 
that  permanent  fame  would  be  his  sure  inheritance  ; 
and  his  hopes  have  not  been  disappointed.  It  may 
seem  strange  that  a  man  so  remarkably  industri- 
ous, and  possessing  such  a  vast  fund  of  erudition 
should  ever  have  been  in  need.  But  in  the  first 
place,  he  wrote  books  which  few  people  in  the 


278  MRS    REISKE. 

world  wished  to  buy,  and  still  fewer  knew  how  to 
appreciate  ;  secondly,  his  aged  mother  was  sup- 
ported out  of  his  hard  earnings  ;  the  third,  and  per- 
haps the  strongest  reason  of  all,  was  that  he  always 
preferred  the  claims  of  the  mind  to  those  of  the 
body, — he  could  not  refrain  from  buying  an  Ara- 
bic MS.  even  when  it  left  him  nothing  to  purchase 
a  dinner. 

In  1758  fortune  became  weary  of  persecuting 
this  laborious  student ;  he  obtained  a  moderate, 
but  certain  income,  by  being  appointed  rector  of 
the  school  of  St  Nicholas. 

In  17CS  he  married  Earnestine  Christina  Miil- 
ler,  a  virtuous  and  intelligent  lady,  of  highly  re- 
spectable family.  He  saw  her  with  her  brother  at 
Leipsic,  in  1755.  Her  modesty,  amiability,  and 
love  of  learned  men,  made  a  deep  impression  on 
his  heart ;  and  he  was  so  fortunate  as  to  inspire  a 
reciprocal  attachment.  Various  obstacles  delayed 
their  union,  and  interrupted  their  epistolary  cor- 
respondence. Perhaps  the  story  will  be  best  told 
in  a  translation  of  his  own  words  :  "  About  the  time 
that  the  first  part  of  my  German  Demosthenes  was 
published,  an  unexpected,  happy  incident  occurred  ; 
it  was  to  solicit  the  heart  and  hand  of  my  present 
beloved  wife.  The  negotiation  was  conducted  by 
letters.  Personal  presence  was  unnecessary,  for 
we  had  known  each  other  nine  years.  Adverse 
accidents,  and  the  calamities  of  war,  had  interrupt- 
ed our  intercourse,  and  brought  me,  as  I  thought, 
to  the  fixed  resolution  never  to  marry.  But  as  un- 


MRS   REISKE.  279 

hoped  for  unions  do  come  to  pass,  I  believed  that 
the  hand  of  God  might  be  seen  in  these  things.  We 
both  learned,  at  the  same  time,  that  we  had  been 
mistaken  concerning  each  other,  for  each  of  us  sup- 
posed that  the  other  had  been  married  ;  our  old  af- 
fection was  once  more  awakened,  and  I  renounced 
my  resolution  of  remaining  single.  God  has  decreed, 
as  a  compensation  for  my  past  griefs,  that  I  should 
at  last  be  blessed  in  a  happy  marriage. 

"  I  endeavor  to  conduct  as  a  true  friend  toward 
my  wife,  and  to  make  her  destiny  as  agreeable  as  I 
can,  after  the  many  crosses  she  has  endured  for 
our  union's  sake.  Her  deportment  toward  me  fills 
me  with  thankful  happiness,  for  which  I  praise  our 
Creator  ;  I  bestow  this  commendation  for  the  best 
reasons,  and  from  the  sincere  conviction  of  my 
heart. 

"  May  God,  who  brought  us  together,  in  a  man- 
ner singular  and  unexpected,  still  preserve  our  lives, 
(as  long  as  shall  suit  his  wisdom)  in  undisturbed 
harmony,  constant  health,  true  love,  perfect  fidelity 
to  each  other,  and  unceasing  endeavors  to  promote 
our  mutual  happiness;  that  our  pilgrimage  through 
this  wearisome  world  may  be  as  quiet  and  joyful 
as  human  imperfection  will  admit." 

Reiske  affixed  his  wife's  portrait  to  his  learned 
and  excellent  edition  of  the  Greek  Orators.  In 
the  preface  to  his  first  volume,  he  speaks  with 
much  gratitude  and  affection,  of  the  assistance  she 
rendered  him  in  comparing  the  numerous  editions 
and  manuscripts,  which  he  used  to  correct  the 
text. 


280  MRS    REISKE. 

"  She  is,"  says  he,  "  a  modest  and  frugal  wo- 
man :  she  loves  me,  and  my  literary  employments, 
and  is  an  industrious  and  skilful  assistant.  Induc- 
ed by  affection  for  me,  she  applied  herself  to  the 
study  of  Greek  and  Latin  under  my  tuition.  She 
knew  neither  of  these  languages  when  we  were 
married  ;  but  she  was  soon  able  to  lighten  the  mul- 
tifarious and  very  severe  labors  to  be  performed  in 
this  undertaking.  The  Aldine  and  Pauline  edi- 
tions she  alone  compared  ;  also  the  fourth  Augus- 
tine edition.  As  I  had  taught  her  the  Erasmian 
pronunciation,  she  read  first  to  me  the  Morellian 
copy,  while  I  read  those  in  manuscript.  She  labored 
unweariedly  in  arranging,  correcting,  and  preparing 
my  confused  copy  for  the  press.  As  I  deeply 
feel,  and  publicly  express,  my  gratitude  for  her  aid, 
so  I  trust  that  present  and  future  generations  may 
hold  her  name  in  honored  remembrance." 

Toward  the  conclusion  of  the  same  preface,  he 
again  recurs  to  this  subject.  He  observes  :  "  Al- 
though I  add  or  alter  something,  as  each  day  sug- 
gests, the  greater  part  of  my  work  is  now  prepared 
and  distinctly  arranged.  If  fate  should  remove 
me  this  day,  the  web  could  be  filled  up  ;  and  my 
wife  would  not  permit  my  reputation  to  be  impaired 
or  the  expectations  of  subscribers  to  be  disappoint- 
ed. Eighteen  months  had  elapsed,  after  my  pros- 
pectus was  issued,  when,  beginning  to  despair  of 
success,  I  determined  to  return  the  money  advanc- 
ed by  subscribers  ;  there  were  scarcely  half  a  dozen 
of  them.  But  my  wife  interceded.  She  was 


MRS    REISKE.  281 

aware  that  her  own  comforts  would  be  diminished, 
or  greatly  endangered,  by  my  doubtful  and  hazard- 
ous undertaking;  yet  she  exhorted  me  to  fulfil  my 
duty  to  the  republic  of  letters,  and  to  hope  better 
things  than  I  was  wont  to  do  from  the  liberality 
of  the  age ;  bidding  me  trust  in  God,  who  knew 
how  to  smooth  the  roughest  path,  and  to  bring  un- 
looked  for  succor  in  the  time  of  need.  Thus  urged, 
I  ventured  to  risk  all.  I  purchased  manuscripts, 
hired  a  printer,  and  put  my  work  in  press.  Mean- 
time a  few  more  subscribers  came  in ;  but  what 
they  contributed  was  small  indeed  compared  with 
the  sum  I  advanced  from  my  own  pocket." 

The  following  account  is  given  by  Mrs  Reiske, 
in  a  note  to  the  memoirs  :  "  When  the  work  went 
to  the  press,  only  twenty  dollars  of  the  subscription 
money  had  come  in.  The  good  man  was  quite 
struck  down  with  this,  and  seemed  to  have  thrown 
away  all  hope.  His  grief  went  to  my  soul.  I  com- 
forted him  as  well  as  I  could.  I  persuaded  him  to 
sell  my  jewels ;  to  which  he  at  last  agreed,  after  I 
had  convinced  him  that  a  few  shining  stones  were 
not  necessary  to  my  happiness." 

It  is  evident  that  the  animadversions  on  the 
Greek  Orators  was  Reiske's  favorite  work.  Other 
things  he  did,  because  he  was  obliged  to  do  them 
for  the  booksellers  ;  a  kind  of  literary  employment, 
which  binds  down  many  an  intellectual  Gulliver, 
with  the  pitiful  Lilliputian  threads  of  immediate 
profit.  Oh,  why,  why  is  it  that  genius  should  so 
often  be  compelled  to  sell  its  glorious  birthright  of 
freedom  for  a  daily  mess  of  pottage  ! 


282  MRS   REISKE. 

The  learned  enthusiast,  thus  speaks  of  his  dar- 
ling project  :  "  I  printed  five  volumes,  which  cost 
me  one  thousand  dollars,  of  which  I  have  never 
seen  more  than  one  hundred  again.  I  have,  how- 
ever, enough  for  five  volumes  more  ;  and  I  should 
go  quietly  out  of  the  world,  if  I  could  once  see 
them  printed.  They  are  jlos  ingenii  mei ;  (sup- 
posing it  to  be  allowed  that  my  genius  has  any 
flowers)  and  sure  I  am,  that  little  as  their  worth  is 
now  known,  the  time  will  come  when  justice  will 
be  done  them.  Should  they  come  out  in  my  life- 
time, it  will  pay  me  for  all  my  trouble ;  if  they 
should  not,  an  ever-waking  God  will  take  care  that 
no  impious  hand  seizes  on  my  work,  and  makes  it 
his  own.  Perhaps  some  honorable,  God-fearing 
man  may  hereafter  arise,  who  will  publish  them 
unadulterated  to  my  posthumous  fame,  and  for  the 
good  of  literature.  Such  is  my  wish  —  such  are 
my  prayers  to  God  —  and  he  will  hear  those 
prayers/' 

In  January,  1770,  he  writes.  "  Children  I  have 
none  ;  but  my  manuscripts,  my  fatherless  blue  coats 
are  my  children.  Of  all  earthly  things  they  are 
nearest  to  my  heart.  Will  there  be  found  an  honest, 
affectionate  heart  to  take  care  of  them  after  my 
death  ?  I  have  done  all  I  could  ;  and  as  long  as  1 
live  I  will  not  cease  doing  all  I  can  to  help  them 
forward. 

"  God  will  take  care  of  my  good  wife.  Her  ex- 
cellent qualities  and  attainments  are  a  sufficient 
security  that  she  will  be  provided  for.  I  have 


MRS    REJSKE.  283 

taken   all   the  care  of  her  well  being  that   it  was 
possible  for  me  to  do." 

Speaking  of  this  passage  in  his  life,  Mrs  Reiske 
observes  :  "  The  melancholy,  to  which  he  had  been 
subject  from  a  child,  here  breaks  out  again.  As 
the  work  sold  very  ill,  particularly  toward  the  end 
of  his  life,  the  disorder  went  on  increasing,  and  in 
the  end  did  its  work." 

It  is  gratifying  to  know  that  wishes  which  lay 
so  near  the  scholar's  heart  were  realized  :  his  be- 
loved manuscripts  were  published  after  his  death. 

He  departed  this  life  on  the  14th  of  August. 
1774. 

On  his  death-bed  he  spoke  of  his  learned  works 
as  mere  trifles  ;  saying  his  only  hope  was  in  the 
consciousness  of  having  walked  uprightly  before 
God. 

Reiske  wrote  his  own  memoirs  with  a  remarka- 
ble degree  of  candor  and  simplicity  ;  I  believe  no 
other  human  being  ever  spoke  of  himself  with  such 
perfect  impartiality.  Through  all  his  faults,  and 
all  his  eccentricities,  there  runs  such  a  rich  vein  of 
integrity,  generosity,  frankness,  and  perfect  kind- 
ness of  heart,  that  we  are  willing  to  believe  all  his 
wife's  testimony  in  his  favor.  She  completed  his 
unfinished  memoirs,  in  a  manner  which  proves 
strong  attachment  for  him,  and  great  respect  for  his 
memory.  She  says :  "  The  highest  degree  of 
rectitude,  which  laid  open  every  fold  of  his  heart  — 
which  never  excused  in  himself  what  he  would  not 
have  excused  in  his  greatest  enemy  —  which,  satis- 


284  ARRIA. 

fied  of  the  wickedness  of  mankind,  avoided  their 
falsehood ;  yet  wished  them  every  good,  and  did 
them  every  good  in  his  power  —  such  was  the 
character  of  my  friend.  He  often  blamed  himself 
in  cases  where  he  deserved  no  blame,  and  spoke 
feelingly  of  his  own  unworthiness. 

"  I  shall  be  forgiven  for  letting  all  remain,  that 
the  good  man  has  written  in  my  praise.  These 
testimonies  of  his  kindness  were  so  dear  to  me,  that 
I  could  not  strike  them  out." 

Reiske  provided  for  her  comfort,  as  far  as  he 
was  able,  by  subscribing  to  the  widow's  fund,  soon 
after  their  marriage.  She  was  highly  respected, 
and  she  richly  deserved  it.  Some  of  her  husband's 
works,  published  after  his  decease,  were  dedicated 
to  her. 

She  died  of  apoplexy,  at  Kemberg,  her  native 
place,  in  July,  1798,  aged  sixtythree. 


ARRIA, 

WIFE    OF    PCETUS. 

FOETUS,  a  senator  of  Padua,  in  the  reign  of  Clau- 
dius, being  accused  of  treason,  escaped  from  Rome, 
accompanied  by  his  wife,  who  was  devotely  attach- 
ed to  him.  Their  place  of  retreat  was  discovered, 
and  ruin  seemed  inevitable.  Arria  met  this  pain- 


ARRIA.  285 

ful  crisis  with  firmness ;  only  entreating  that  she 
might  be  permitted  to  share  her  husband's  fate.  It 
was  not  until  this  request  was  refused,  that  she 
gave  way  to  tears.  When  the  officers  of  justice 
absolutely  forbade  her  to  accompany  Foetus,  and 
when  she  found  all  her  efforts  to  excite  compassion 
were  entirely  fruitless,  then  indeed  her  misery  knew 
no  bounds.  But  her  resolution  did  not  forsake  her. 
She  offered  a  large  sum  of  money  to  the  owners  of 
a  fishing-boat,  if  they  would  take  her  on  board  and 
follow  the  vessel  that  contained  her  husband. 
Tempted  by  the  promised  reward,  the  fishermen 
consented  to  her  proposition,  and  conveyed  her 
safely  to  Rome.  The  senate,  admiring  her  energy 
and  strong  affection,  consented  that  she  should  be 
her  husband's  companion  in  prison.  Here  she 
gave  way  to  no  useless  expressions  of  sorrow,  but 
exerted  herself  to  the  utmost  to  support  his  spirits, 
and  enliven  his  solitude,  by  her  own  cheerful  for- 
titude. 

When,  at  last,  no  hope  of  pardon  remained,  she 
urged  him  to  avoid  the  ignorny  of  public  execution 
by  suicide.  The  advice  was  in  accordance  with 
the  blind  courage  of  those  ancient  times,  when  the 
light  of  the  gospel  was  just  dawning,  and  men  had 
not  learned  the  duty  of  perfect  resignation  to  the 
will  of  God;  but  Pcetus,  reluctant  to  part  from  her 
he  loved,  and  perhaps  still  clinging  to  some  faint 
hope  of  deliverance,  resisted  her  entreaties.  Find- 
ing her  arguments  ineffectual,  she  drew  a  dagger 
from  her  robe,  and  plunged  it  in  her  heart  ;  then 


286  EPONINA. 

offering  the  weapon  to  her  husband,  with  a  gentle 
smile,  she  said,  "  It  pains  not,  my  Pcetus." 

Existence  had  now  no  value  for  the  unhappy 
man  —  with  one  desperate  stroke  his  spirit  followed 
hers. 


EPONINA, 

WIFE     OF     J  Lr  L  T  L'  S    S  A  B  I  N  U  S  . 

JULIUS  SABINUS,  a  nobleman  of  Gaul,  revolted 
from  Vespasian,  and  allowed  the  troops  to  address 
him  as  emperor.  Being  defeated  in  his  bold  un- 
dertaking, he  set  fire  to  his  house,  and  caused  the 
report  to  be  spread  that  he  had  perished  in  the 
flames.  After  this,  he  hid  himself  in  a  large  cav- 
ern of  white  marble  and  granite,  about  fifteen 
miles  from  Rome.  Two  of  his  freedmen  were  in- 
trusted with  the  secret :  and  to  their  kind  atten- 
tions the  fugitive  was  for  some  time  indebted  for  the 
most  common  necessaries  of  life.  Eponina,  believing 
her  husband  was  dead,  gave  herself  up  to  most  heart- 
rending grief.  When  the  freedmen  told  Sabinus  she 
had  passed  three  dciys  and  three  nights  without  food, 
he  authorized  them  to  inform  her  that  he  yet  lived. 
These  joyful  tidings  restored  her  at  once  to  hope  and 
happiness.  She  could  hardly  summon  sufficient  pru- 
dence to  wait  for  the  approach  of  night,  before  she 


EPONINA.  287 

set  off  for  the  cavern.  The  delight,  which  her 
husband  felt  at  seeing  him,  was  mingled  with 
anxiety  and  fear.  He  strenuously  resisted  her 
wish  to  remain  with  him  in  the  cavern,  on  the 
ground  that  her  absence  from  home  would  lead  to 
detection,  and  involve  them  in  ruin.  This  argu- 
ment had  its  effect ;  Eponina  contented  herself 
with  visiting  him  privately,  and  providing  every  thing 
she  could  for  his  comfort  and  amusement.  But  as 
time  passed  on,  and  the  fate  of  Sabinus  seemed  to 
be  forgotten,  she  acted  with  less  caution ;  often 
venturing  to  stay  with  him  several  months,  under 
the  pretence  of  visiting  her  relations.  Always 
affectionate  and  cheerful,  she  enlivened  her  hus- 
band's dreary  abode,  and  made  him  almost  content- 
ed with  his  Jot. 

Twin  children  were  born  to  them  in  the  cavern  ; 
and  the  innocent  prattle  of  these  little  ones  was  a 
new  source  of  pleasure.  Thus  nine  years  past 
away,  and  their  fears  had  settled  into  quiet  security. 
But  alas,  the  frequent  absence  of  Eponinawas  ob- 
served by  her  husband's  enemies,  and  her  footsteps 
were  traced  to  the  cavern.  Sabinus  was  dragged 
from  his  long  concealment,  and  carried  before  the 
enraged  emperor.  His  wife  followed,  in  a  state  bor- 
dering on  despair.  She  fell  at  Vespasian's  feet,  with 
her  children,  and  begged  for  mercy,  in  a  tone  in- 
spired by  deep  love  and  bitter  agony  ;  and  the  little 
twin  saffected  by  their  mother's  sorrow,  joined  in 
her  supplications.  The  people,  could  not  refrain 
from  tears  at  this  heart  stirring  scene  ;  and  even  the 


288  EPONINA. 

emperor  turned  away  his  face  to  conceal  his  emo- 
tions. Then  arose  the  loud  voice  of  the  multitude, 
"  Pardon  !  Great  Caesar  !  Pardon  this  wretched 
and  faithful  pair  !  " 

Vespasian  was  angry  at  this  public  compassion 
toward  a  rebel,  and  he  ordered  Sabinus  and  his 
wife  to  be  immediately  beheaded.  When  Eponina 
found  there  was  no  hope  of  mercy,  she  burst  into  a 
strain  of  impassioned  eloquence.  "  Know,  Vespa- 
sian," she  exclaimed,  "  that  in  fulfilling  my  duty, 
and  prolonging  the  days  of  your  victim,  I  have  en- 
joyed, in  that  dark  cavern,  years  of  happiness, 
which  you,  upon  your  splendid  throne,  will  never 
know." 

The  only  favor  she  could  obtain,  was  leave  to 
send  her  poor  children  a  lock  of  their  father's  hair, 
her  own  picture,  and  some  papers  giving  an  ac- 
count of  their  love  and  their  misfortunes. 

After  the  death  of  their  parents,  the  orphans 
were  confined  in  a  tower  on  the  borders  of  the 
Tiber.  The  affectionate  little  ones  refused  all 
consolation,  and  absolutely  pined  away  with  grief. 
Day  and  night  they  moaned  for  their  father  and 
mother,  and  one  morning  they  were  found  dead  in 
each  other's  arms. 

This  affecting  story  has  furnished  a  subject  to 
many  tragic  poets.  A  painting  representing  the 
interview  with  Vespasian,  received  a  prize  from 
the  National  Institute  of  France. 


MRS  LAFAYETTE, 

WIFE  OF  GENERAL  LAFAYETTE. 

WHEN  La  Fayette  was  imprisoned  atOlmutz,  in 
1793,  by  the  Austrian  government,  he  was  informed 
that  he  would  never  again  see  anything  but  the 
four  walls  of  his  cell.  Even  the  jailers  were  for- 
bidden to  mention  his  name,  and  in  the  govern- 
ment despatches  he  was  signified  merely  by  a 
number.  No  visiters  could  gain  access  to  him ; 
no  newspapers  were  allowed ;  and  it  was  impossi- 
ble for  him  to  gain  the  least  information  concern- 
ing the  fate  of  his  family. 

His  wife,  for  a  long  time  uncertain  of  his  exist- 
ence, was  immured  in  the  prisons  of  Paris,  daily 
expecting  to  be  led  to  the  scaffold,  where  the  great- 
er part  of  her  family  had  already  suffered.  During 
this  alarming  crisis,  she  spent  much  of  her  time  in 
prayer.  The  death  of  Robespierre  saved  her ; 
but  she  did  not  regain  her  liberty  for  some  time 
after.  The  first  use  she  made  of  her  freedom  was 
to  set  off  for  Vienna,  with  an  American  passport, 
and  under  a  feigned  name. 

Here  she  succeeded  in  exciting  the  compassion 
of  Prince  de  Rossenberg,  by  whose  means  she  ob- 
19 


290  MRS    LAFAYETTE. 

tained  an  audience  with  the  Emperor.  She  plead- 
ed strongly  for  the  release  of  her  husband  on  the 
grounds  of  common  justice  and  humanity,  and  urged 
her  strong  desire  to  see  him  restored  to  his  family. 
The  emperor  said  it  was  out  of  his  power  to  grant 
her  request,  but  he  was  willing  she  and  her  two 
daughters,  (then  about  twelve  and  fifteen  years  of 
age)  should  enliven  the  prisoner  by  taking  up  their 
abode  with  him.  This  indulgence  was  gratefully 
accepted,  and  the  long-separated  friends  were  re- 
stored to  each  other. 

Madame  La  Fayette  was  deeply  affected  at  the 
emaciated  figure  and  pale  countenance  of  her  hus- 
band. She  found  him  suffering  under  annoyances 
much  worse  than  she  had  feared. 

She  wished  to  write  to  the  emperor ;  but  this 
was  refused.  She  made  applications  for  redress 
in  other  quarters,  but  received  no  answer,  except, 
"  Madame  La  Fayette  has  submitted  to  share  the 
captivity  of  her  husband.  It  is  her  own  choice." 

At  length,  her  health,  already  impaired  by  six- 
teen months  imprisonment  in  Paris,  began  to  give 
way.  She  solicited  permission  to  go  to  Vienna,  to 
breath  pure  air,  and  consult  a  physician.  During 
two  months  she  received  no  reply  ;  but,  at  last, 
she  was  informed  that  the  emperor  permitted  her 
to  go  out,  upon  condition  that  she  never  returned 
to  the  prison. 

Being  desired  to  signify  her  choice  in  writing, 
she  wrote  as  follows. 

"  I  considered  it  a  duty  to  my  family  and  friends 


MRS    LAFAYETTE.  291 

to  desire  the  assistance  necessary  for  my  health  ; 
but  they  well  know  it  cannot  be  accepted  by  me  at 
the  price  attached  to  it.  1  cannot  forget  that  while 
we  were  on  the  point  of  perishing,  myself  by  the 
tyranny  of  Robespierre,  and  my  husband  by  the 
physical  and  moral  sufferings  of  captivity,  I  was 
not  permitted  to  obtain  any  intelligence  of  him, 
nor  to  acquaint  him  that  his  children  and  myself 
were  yet  alive ;  and  I  shall  not  expose  myself  to 
the  horrors  of  another  separation.  Whatever  then 
may  be  the  state  of  my  health,  and  the  inconveni- 
ences of  this  abode  for  my  daughters,  we  will 
gratefully  avail  ourselves  of  his  Imperial  Majesty's 
generosity,  in  permitting  us  to  partake  this  captivi- 
ty in  all  its  circumstances." 

After  this,  Madame  La  Fayette  fearful  of  being 
separated  from  her  husband,  refrained  from  making 
any  complaint ;  although  the  air  of  the  prison  was 
so  foetid,  that  the  soldiers,  who  brought  food,  cov- 
ered their  faces  when  they  opened  the  door. 

The  excellent  man,  to  whom  our  country  owes 
so  much,  continued  at  Olmutz  four  years. 

The  unsuccessful  efforts  to  effect  his  escape, 
made  by  Henry  JBollman  a  young  German,  and 
Francis  Huger,  a  South  Carolinian,  (whose  father 
had  first  received  Lafayette  \\hen  he  came  to  the 
United  States)  are  too  universally  known  to  be  re- 
peated here.  Joseph  Russell,  Esq.  of  Boston  was 
in  Paris  during  the  reign  of  Robespierre,  and  by 
his  aid,  the  sou,  George  Washington  Lafayette, 
came  to  America,  where  he  remained  till  his  family 
were  in  safety. 


292  COUNTESS    SEGUR. 

After  much  equivocation  and  delay,  the  inter- 
vention of  General  Bonaparte  released  the  prisoners 
from  Austrian  power.  Lafayette  resided  in  Ham- 
burg and  Holstein  for  a  time,  and  then  returned 
to  France,  after  an  absence  of  eight  years. 

His  wife  belonged  to  the  noble  family  of  Noiiilles. 
Her  character  was  patient,  gentle,  and  affectionate  ; 
and  she  was,  of  course,  much  beloved  by  her  hus- 
band and  children. 

During  her  various  imprisonments,  surrounded 
by  an  accumulation  of  horrors,  her  health  received 
a  shock,  from  which  it  never  recovered.  She  died 
in  1807. 

All  the  world  know  that  the  venerable  patriarch 
still  survives,  at  La  Grange,  surrounded  by  affec- 
tionate children  and  grand-children. 


COUNTESS     SEGUR. 

COUNT  SEGUR,  the  elder,  pays  the  following 
tribute  to  the  memory  of  his  wife  :  "  What  comfort 
and  support  she  was  to  me  under  my  great  calami- 
ties !  She  was  my  secretary,  and  wrote  the  whole 
of  my  Universal  History  under  my  dictation  ;  for 
I  was  then  almost  blind.  There  was  not  a 
single  disagreement  between  us  upon  subjects  of 
literature  and  politics,  not  the  slightest  domes- 
tic cloud,  not  even  a  difference  of  opinion  con- 
cerning the  details  of  household  management. 


MRS    LAVALETTE.  293 

"  The  loss  of  such  a  friend,  such  a  companion, 
such  an  assistant,  is  not  to  be  estimated  —  It  could 
not  be  endured  if  much  of  life  were  left  for  vain 
regrets." 


MRS    LAVALETTE. 

WIFE    OP    MARIE    CHAMANS    LAVALETTE. 

MARRIAGES  made  by  the  will  of  a  third  person 
are  not  usually  happy  ;  for  people  rarely  love  those, 
whom  their  relatives  are  determined  they  shall  love. 
Lavalette  seems  to  have  been  an  exception  to  this 
general  rule.  Bonaparte,  wishing  to  reward  the 
bravery  of  his  aid-de-camp,  and  being  at  that  time 
somewhat  restricted  in  his  power,  resolved  that  he 
should  marry  a  niece  of  Josephine.  "  I  cannot 
make  you  a  major,"  said  he,  "  I  must  therefore 
give  you  a  wife.  You  shall  marry  Emilie  Beau- 
harnais.  She  is  very  handsome,  and  well  edu- 
cated." 

Lavalette  objected  that  he  had  no  fortune  — 
that  he  was  going  immediately  to  Africa  —  that  he 
might  be  killed  —  that  perhaps  the  young  lady 
would  not  fancy  him  —  "  But  the  conqueror  of 
Italy  was  not  in  the  habit  of  supposing  the  opinions 
and  feelings  of  others  could  possibly  be  obstructions 
in  the  way  of  his  wishes.  "Killed,  you  certainly 
may  be,  he  replied ;  "  but  she  will  then  be  the 


294  MRS    LAVALETTE. 

widow  of  one  of  my  officers — she  will  have  a  pen- 
sion —  and  may  marry  again  advantageously. 
The  wedding  shall  take  place  in  eight  days.  I 
will  allow  you  a  fortnight  for  the  honey-moon. 
You  must  then  come  and  join  us  at  Toulon.  Corne, 
come,  the  thing  is  all  settled.  Tell  the  coachman 
to  drive  home." 

Lavalette  smiled  to  see  how  readily  he  was  dis- 
posed of,  apparently  upon  the  supposition,  that  he 
had  no  right  to  feel  any  interest  in  the  matter. 
Foreigners  accuse  us  of  dancing  as  if  we  did  it  by 
act  of  the  legislature  ;  but  this  marrying  per  order 
is  a  more  serious  affair. 

Lavalette  agreed  to  visit  the  young  lady,  mentally 
reserving  a  degree  of  freedom,  in  case  the  union 
should  not  be  mutually  agreeable.  The  following 
is  his  own  account  of  the  interview. 

"  In  the  evening  I  went  to  see  Madame  Bona- 
parte. She  knew  what  was  going  forward,  and  was 
kind  enough  to  show  some  satisfaction,  and  call  me 
her  nephew.  "  To-morrow,"  she  said,  "  we  shall  go 
to  St.  Germains  —  I  will  introduce  you  to  my  niece  : 
you  will  be  delighted  with  her  —  she  is  a  charming 
girl."  Accordingly,  next  day,  the  Gen.  Madame 
Bonaparte,  Eugene,  and  I,  went  in  an  open  car- 
riage to  St  Germains,  and  stopped  at  Madame 
Campan's.  The  visit  was  a  great  event  at  the 
boarding  school  ;  all  the  young  girls  were  at  the 
windows,  in  the  parlors,  or  in  the  court-yard,  for 
they  had  obtained  a  holiday.  We  soon  entered  the 
gardens.  A  inong  the  forty  young  ladies  I  anxious  ly 


MRS    LAV  ALETTE.  295 

sought  for  her  who  \vas  to  be  my  wife.  Her  cousin, 
Hortense,  led  her  to  us,  that  she  might  salute  the 
General  and  embrace  her  aunt.  She  was,  in  truth, 
the  prettiest  of  them  all.  Her  stature  was  tall,  and 
most  gracefully  elegant,  her  features  were  charming, 
and  the  glow  of  her  beautiful  complexion  was 
heightened  by  her  confusion.  Her  bashfulness  was 
so  great,  that  the  General  could  not  help  laughing 
at  her,  but  he  went  no  further.  It  was  decided 
that  we  should  breakfast  in  the  garden.  In  the 
mean  time  I  felt  extremely  uneasy.  Would  she 
like  me?  Would  she  obey  without  reluctance? 
This  abrupt  marriage,  and  this  speedy  departure 
grieved  me.  When  we  got  up  and  the  circle  was 
broken,  I  begged  Eugene  to  conduct  his  cousin 
into  a  solitary  walk.  I  joined  them,  and  he  left 
us  ;  I  then  entered  on  the  delicate  subject.  I  made 
no  secret  of  my  birth,  or  of  my  want  of  fortune  ; 
and  added  —  "I  possess  nothing  in  the  world  but 
my  sword,  and  the  good  will  of  the  General  — and 
I  must  leave  you  in  a  fortnight.  Open  your  heart 
to  me.  I  feel  myself  disposed  to  love  you  with  all 
my  soul  —  but  that  is  not  sufficient.  If  this  mar- 
riage does  not  please  you,  repose  a  full  confidence 
in  me;  it  will  not  be  difficult  to  find  a  pretext  to 
break  it  off — I  shall  depart :  you  will  not  be  tor- 
mented, for  I  will  keep  your  secret."  While  I  was 
speaking,  she  kept  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground  ; 
her  only  answer  was  a  smile,  and  she  gave  me  (he 
nosegay  she  held  in  her  hand  ;  I  embraced  her. 
We  returned  slowly  to  the  company,  and  eight  days 


296  MRS     LAVALETTE. 

afterwards  went  to  the  municipality.  The  follow- 
ing day,  a  poor  priest,  who  had  not  taken  the  oaths, 
married  us  in  a  small  convent  of  the  Conception, 
in  the  Rue  St  Honore.  This  was  in  some  manner 
forbidden,  but  Emilie  set  a  great  importance  on 
that  point :  her  piety  was  gentle  and  sincere." 

Immediately  after  the  marriage,  Count  Lavalette 
left  his  bride,  in  order  to  join  the  expedition  to 

Egypt. 

At  the  end  of  eighteen  months  he  returned  ;  and 
when  he  received  orders  again  to  depart  for  Saxony, 
he  took  Madame  Lavalette  with  him.  The  people 
of  North  Germany  had  great  prejudices  against 
Frenchwomen  ;  and  were  therefore  surprised  when 
they  saw  a  young  and  beautiful  lady  so  modestly 
dressed,  and  timid  even  to  bashfulness.  During 
her  residence  at  the  court  of  Berlin  she  excited 
great  admiration. 

In  France,  honors  were  of  course  heaped  upon 
them  during  the  prosperity  of  Bonaparte.  Grateful 
for  these  favors,  and  warmly  attached  to  the  Em- 
peror's person,  Count  Lavalette  welcomed  Napo- 
leon on  his  return  from  Elba.  In  the  counter 
revolution,  which  immediately  ensued,  this  became 
a  crime  ;  and  he  was  imprisoned. 

The  state  of  Madame  Lavalette's  health  made 
this  affliction  peculiarly  distressing ;  she  was 
expressly  forbidden  to  visit  her  husband.  A  few 
months  after  he  was  arrested,  she  gave  birth  to  a 
little  son,  which  died  in  a  few  hours.  The  reverse 
of  fortune  that  had  fallen  upon  all  her  friends,  and 


MRS   LAVALLETTE.  297 

the  sad  fate  of  her  husband,  produced  such  a  state 
of  nervous  excitement,  that  she  wept  for  her  lost 
infant  with  delirious  and  inconsolable  grief. 

She  was  scarcely  restored  to  a  tolerable  degree 
of  calmness,  when  it  became  necessary  to  inform 
her  that  sentence  of  death  had  been  passed 
upon  Lavalette.  This  aroused  all  her  energy. 
Their  first  meeting  in  prison  was  almost  too  much 
for  her  ;  but  she  recovered  herself  sufficiently  to 
consult  on  all  possible  means  of  saving  him. 

For  several  weeks  her  petitions  to  the  king  and 
Duchess  D'Angouleme  were  incessant.  When 
driven  from  one  door  of  the  palace,  she  flew  to 
another  ;  and  when  again  repulsed,  she  sat  down 
on  the  stone  steps  in  the  court-yard,  pale  and 
weary,  watching  for  some  means  to  gain  admission. 
Those,  who  passed  by,  knew  her  and  pitied  her  ; 
but  they  did  not  dare  to  show  their  commiseration. 

At  last,  it  became  too  evident  that  there  was  no 
hope  of  royal  mercy;  only  fortyeight  hours  remain- 
ed between  the  prisoner  and  death.  His  wife 
came  to  make  her  accustomed  daily  visit.  When 
they  were  alone,  she  said,  "  I  have  formed  a  plan 
of  escape,  and  provided  a  place  of  refuge  for  you. 
At  eight  o'clock  tomorrow  evening,  you  must  go 
out  in  my  dress ;  I  will  remain.  You  shall  step 
into  my  sedan  chair.  At  the  corner  of  the  Rue  de 
St  Peres  you  will  find  M.  Baudus  with  a  cabriolet; 
he  will  guide  you  to  a  retreat  where  you  will  be 
safe  till  you  can  leave  France." 

Lavalette  thought  the  scheme  wild  and  hazard- 


293  MRS    LAVALETTE. 

ous ;  but  she  silenced  all  objections  by  saying, 
"  You  must  not  reject  my  plan.  If  you  die,  I  die. 
I  know  it  will  succeed.  I  feel  that  God  supports 
me." 

The  next  day  she  was  again  at  the  prison. 
"  Our  project  must  be  executed  to  night,"  said 
she  ;  "for  tomorrow,  alas,  it  will  be  too  late.  Ever 
since  I  left  you,  I  have  been  making  arrangements 
to  prevent  any  disaster.  Keep  up  your  spirits,  for 
you  will  need  them.  As  for  me,  I  feel  that  I  have 
courage  for  four  and  twenty  hours,  and  not  a  mo- 
ment longer  ;  for  I  am  exhausted  with  fatigue." 

The  eventful  hour  came.  Madame  Lavalette 
with  her  young  daughter  Josephine,  paid  what  was 
supposed  to  be  a  farewell  visit  to  the  prisoner. 
The  disguise  was  assumed.  Madame  Lavalette 
was  half  an  inch  taller  than  her  husband  ;  but  in 
female  attire  he  appeared  about  her  height.  She 
charged  him  to  hold  his  handkerchief  to  his  eyes, 
—  to  walk  slowly  and  wearily,  as  she  had  been  ac- 
customed to  do,  —  to  stoop  at  the  door,  to  avoid 
breaking  the  plumes  of  his  bonnet,  which  might 
lead  to  delay  and  detection,  —  &c,  &c.  The  try- 
ing moment  came  for  them  to  part.  "  Now  God's 
will  be  done,  my  dear,"  she  said.  "Keep  very 
calm.  Let  me  feel  your  pulse.  Very  well.  Feel 
of  mine.  Does  it  indicate  the  slightest  emotion  ?  " 

Poor  woman  !  It  throbbed  high  with  fever;  but 
she  was  unconscious  of  it. 

"  We  must  not  give  way  to  our  feelings,"  she 
added  ;  "  for  that  will  ruin  all."  Lavalette  put 


MRS    LAVALETTE.  299 

his  marriage-ring  on  her  finger,  under  the  pretence 
that  it  might  lead  to  detection,  but  in  reality  be- 
cause he  feared  he  should  never  see  her  more. 

The  turnkey  was  heard,  and  they  exchanged 
looks,  without  daring  to  embrace.  Madame  Lava- 
lette  retired  behind  a  screen,  and  her  husband 
went  out.  He  was  obliged  to  pass  through  a  pas- 
sage, two  rooms,  and  a  court,  under  the  eyes  of 
seven  turnkeys  and  twenty  soldiers.  These  perils 
were  all  passed  in  safety  ;  but  two  minutes  elapsed 
before  the  sedan-chair  arrived  ;  and  those  two 
minutes  seemed  like  eternity.  Fortunately,  the 
cabriolet  was  brought  nearer  to  the  prison  than 
had  been  at  first  intended ;  for  the  trick  was  dis- 
covered before  many  minutes.  Lavalette  had 
scarcely  passed  the  outer  door  of  the  prison  when 
the  jailers  went  to  examine  his  room;  hearing  a 
noise  behind  the  screen,  he  went  away  :  but  in  five 
minutes  he  returned,  and  took  a  fancy  to  peep  be- 
hind the  screen.  Madame  Lavalette  tried  to  hold 
him  by  the  coat,  but  he  tore  himself  away  so  vio- 
lently that  he  left  a  part  of  it  in  her  hand.  A  hue 
and  cry  was  immediately  raised. 

The  sedan  chair  was  easily  overtaken,  but  it 
contained  only  Josephine  Lavalette.  Her  father, 
in  the  meantime,  was  safely  concealed  in  a  garret, 
where  he  could  hear  the  criers  pronouncing  heavy 
penalties  upon  any  one  who  harbored  him.  After 
remaining  in  this  concealment  about  twenty  days, 
he  at  last,  by  the  assistance  of  Sir  Robert  Wilson, 
escaped  to  Belgium,  in  the  disguise  of  an  English 


300  MRS   LAVALETTE. 

officer.  On  his  way,  he  passed  by  his  own  scaf- 
fold, and  through  the  midst  of  soldiers,  who  were 
on  the  alert  to  sieze  him. 

As  the  school,  where  Josephine  was  placed,  was 
under  the  protection  of  the  Duchess  D'Angouleme, 
the  poor  child  experienced  a  good  deal  of  persecu- 
tion for  her  part  in  this  affair  ;  and  several  of  the 
parents  threatened  to  take  away  their  children  if 
she  were  suffered  to  remain.  So  powerful  and  so 
unprincipled  is  self-interest ! 

The  populace,  always  rejoicing  in  the  defeat  of  the 
Bourbons,  did  not  conceal  their  delight.  Madame 
Lavalette  was  lauded  to  the  skies.  The  market- 
women  of  Paris  talked  of  her  continually  ;  and  at 
the  theatre  the  slightest  allusions  were  received 
with  enthusiasm. 

But  she,  poor  lady,  was  in  hands  little  inclined 
to  deal  mercifully.  She  remained  in  prison  six 
weeks,  treated  with  great  severity,  loaded  with 
abuse,  and  terrified  by  the  assurance  that  her  hus- 
band would  be  immediately  re-taken.  No  letter 
was  allowed  to  cross  the  threshold,  nor  could  her 
friends  find  any  means  to  communicate  with  her. 
At  every  noise,  she  imagined  they  were  bringing 
the  prisoner  back.  Five  and  twenty  days  and 
nights  she  passed  without  sleep.  This  feverish 
anxiety,  acting  upon  health  already  enfeebled,  pro- 
duced insanity,  from  which  she  suffered  more  or 
less  during  twelve  years. 

Lavalette  left  France  in  January  1816;  in  1822 
Louis  18th  granted  him  letters  of  pardon,  and  he 


MRS    LAVALETTE.  301 

returned  to  his  native  country.  A  host  of  friends 
welcomed  him  ;  but  his  excellent  and  devoted  wife 
did  not  know  him,  whom  she  had  sacrificed  her 
reason  to  save  ! 

This  blow  almost  overwhelmed  her  husband 
with  despair.  He  gave  up  the  world,  and  lived  in 
perfect  solitude,  devoting  his  whole  time  and  at- 
tention to  her. 

Madame  Lavalette  had  intervals  of  rationality, 
during  which  she  was  perfectly  conscious  of  her 
liability  to  mental  derangement.  This  made  her 
urge  an  early  marriage  for  her  daughter ;  and 
Josephine  was  united  to  a  man  of  worth  and  talent, 
some  time  before  her  father  returned. 

The  soothing  attentions  and  unremitting  kind- 
ness of  a  grateful  husband  produced  a  salutary 
effect  upon  the  invalid. 

Lavalette  closes  his  memoirs  by  saying  :  "  A  deep 
melancholy  frequently  throws  her  into  fits  of  ab- 
straction ;  but  she  is  always  equally  mild,  amiable, 
and  good.  We  pass  our  summers  in  a  retired 
country-house,  where  she  seems  to  enjoy  herself." 

If  watchful  love  could  repay  the  debt  he  owed, 
it  was  amply  repaid.  To  the  day  of  his  death  he 
cherished  her  with  the  same  anxious  care  a  mother 
bestows  upon  her  suffering  babe. 

I  do  not  know  whether  Madame  Lavalette  has 
followed  her  husband,  or  whether  she  still  wanders 
in  this  vale  of  tears. 


COUNTESS   OF   NtTHSDALE. 

THE  Earl  of  Nithsdale  was  condemned  to  be 
beheaded  for  his  efforts  to  place  the  Pretender  on 
the  British  throne  in  1715.  He  would  unquestion- 
ably have  shared  the  fate  of  the  Earl  of  Derwent, 
had  he  not  been  rescued  by  the  affection  and  in- 
genuity of  his  wife. 

The  day  before  his  intended  execution  she  dis- 
tributed money  very  freely  among  the  jailers,  who 
were  of  course  disposed  to  be  as  courteous  as  possi- 
ble. Having  obtained  permission  to  bring  several 
of  her  friends  to  bid  him  farewell,  she  persuaded 
one  lady,  who  was  tall  and  robust,  to  leave  her 
clothes,  and  assume  another  dress,  which  she  had 
prepared.  When  this  lady  came  in,  she  affected  to 
weep :  but  when  she  went  out  she  was  perfectly 
calm.  This  was  done  that  the  Earl  of  Nithsdale 
might  more  completely  personate  her,  and  disguise 
his  own  features,  by  holding  a  handkerchief  to  his 
face.  Besides  this  the  Countess  had  taken  the 
precaution  to  paint  his  eye-brows  and  cheeks,  and 
cover  his  head  with  artificial  hair.  The  sentinel, 
suspecting  no  mischief,  officiously  opened  the 


MRS    SPURZHEIM.  303 

doors  for  his  prisoner  to  depart.  The  Countess 
followed  her  disguised  husband  closely,  in  order  to 
prevent  the  jailers  from  taking  particular  observation 
of  his  gait.  At  this  critical  moment,  she  preserved 
a  remarkable  degree  of  calmness  and  presence  of 
mind.  As  she  walked  on,  she  urged  the  pretended 
lady  to  hasten  her  servant  in  coming  for  her,  be- 
cause she  was  determined  to  present  a  petition  to 
the  king  that  night,  as  the  last  means  of  saving 
her  husband's  life. 

Some  friends  who  were  in  readiness  outside  of 
the  Tower,  received  the  fugitive,  and  conveyed 
him  to  a  place  of  safety.  After  being  concealed  a 
few  days  in  London,  he  assumed  the  livery  of  the 
Venetian  ambassador,  and  passed  with  his  retinue 
to  Calais;  from  whence  he  travelled  to  Rome, 
where  he  resided  till  his  death,  in  1774. 


MRS    SPURZHEIM 

WIFE    OF    DR    SPURZHEIM. 

DOCT.  SPUUZHEIM,  who  has  excited  a  deeper  and 
more  universal  interest  among  us,  than  was  ever 
before  accorded  to  an  individual  we  had  known  so 
recently,  found  in  domestic  life  that  perfect  happi- 


304  MRS    SPURZHEIM. 

ness,  which  his  virtues  deserved.  He  married  a 
widow  in  Paris,  who  had  three  daughters.  The 
motive  which  dictated  his  choice  was  very  charac- 
teristic ;  he  believed  she  would  make  a  good  wife, 
because  her  character  had  been  perfected  by  suf- 
fering. His  hopes  were  fully  realized.  She  was 
meek,  unassuming,  affectionate  and  intelligent. 
She  sympathized  in  her  husband's  pursuits,  and 
aided  him  by  her  uncommon  skill  in  drawing. 
Many  of  the  illustrations  he  used  in  his  lectures, 
were  the  productions  of  her  pencil.  Her  heart  was 
entirely  devoted  to  him,  and  her  watchful  care  was 
ever  with  him,  a  guardian  angel  protecting  his 
health  and  happiness.  It  was  a  common  observa- 
tion how  remarkably  they  were  adapted  to  each 
other.  Both  of  them  possessed,  in  an  eminent  de- 
gree, that  beautiful  kind  of  politeness,  which  is  in 
reality  genuine  goodness  of  heart,  clothed  in  its 
appropriate  simplicity  of  manner. 

While  in  this  country,  Doctor  Spurzheim  often 
alluded  to  her  constant  affection,  and  unremitting 
attention  to  his  welfare.  He  was  troubled  with  a 
disease  of  the  heart,  and  an  intermitting  pulse, 
which  he  ascribed  to  the  grief  occasioned  by  her 
death. 

In  his  last  illness,  he  said,  "  This  would  not  have 
been,  if  my  wife  had  been  alive,  to  take  care  of  me, 
when  I  came  home  cold  and  fatigued  from  my  lec- 
tures." 

He  died  among  strangers  ;  but  those  strangers 
were  his  friends ;  and  he  received  every  attention 
which  respect  and  sympathy  could  suggest. 


LADY     COLLINGWOOD. 

LORD  COLLINGWOOD,  the  friend  and  companion 
of  Nelson,  resembled  the  great  naval  hero  in  cour- 
age and  firmness,  but  was  totally  unlike  him  in  his 
domestic  character.  His  heart  was  fully  satisfied 
in  the  affections  of  his  wife  and  children.  In  the 
midst  of  his  fame,  his  fondest  hope  was  to  be  soon 
released  from  public  duties,  and  allowed  to  indulge 
in  the  tranquil  enjoyments  of  his  happy  home. 
The  quiet  haven  he  so  much  desired  was  never 
attained.  Almost  his  whole  life  was  passed  on  the 
seas;  and  he  died  just  as  his  long  indulged  antici- 
pations seemed  about  to  be  realized.  His  letters 
to  his  daughters  are  full  of  practical  wisdom,  and 
indicate  great  warmth  of  parental  tenderness.  He 
evidently  regarded  his  wife  with  mingled  love  and 
reverence.  In  one  of  his  letters  to  his  children, 
he  says,  "  Let  all  your  words  and  all  your  actions 
mark  you  gentle.  I  never  knew  your  mother,  — 
your  dear,  your  good  mother,  —  say  a  harsh,  or  a 
hasty  thing,  to  any  person  in  my  life.  Endeavor 
to  imitate  her." 
20 


MRS  SCHILLER 

WIFE  OF  JOHN  CHRISTOPHER.  FREDERIC  SCHILLER. 

FREDERIC  SCHILLER  was  one  of  those  few  mas- 
ter-spirits, which  in  the  lapse  of  ages  now  and  then 
arise,  to  impart  their  own  activity  to  human  thought, 
and  shed  fresh  light  upon  the  world. 

He  himself  followed  the  sublime  advice  he  gave 
to  artists  ;  he  "  imprinted  ideal  beauty  on  all  sensi- 
ble and  spiritual  forms,  and  cast  it  silently  into 
everlasting  time." 

He  was  born  November,  1759,  at  Marbach,  a 
small  town  in  Wiirtcmberg.  His  father  was  first  a 
surgeon,  afterward  an  officer  in  the  army  ;  his 
mother  was  of  humble  birth,  but  very  intelligent, 
and  fond  of  poetry  ;  both  of  his  parents  were  affec- 
tionate, sincere,  and  conscientious. 

The  reigning  Duke,  from  respect  to  the  father's 
worth,  offered  to  place  the  son  at  his  school  in 
Stuttgard,  for  the  purpose  of  studying  law.  The 
proposition  was  unwelcome  to  the  boy  ;  who,  sanc- 
tioned by  his  parents,  had  fixed  his  heart  upon  the 
ministry  ;  but  fear  of  offending  the  prince  induced 
a  reluctant  acquiescence  in  his  plan. 

At  this  seminary,  all  the  influences  around  Fred- 


MRS  SCHILLER.  307 

eric  were  uncongenial  to  his  free  and  ardent  nature. 
His  genius  fettered  and  cramped  by  the  exact 
machinery  of  the  school,  —  governed  by  those, 
whose  minds  fitted  them  to  be  his  servants,  —  im- 
patient of  bondage,  and  struggling  for  some  little 
portion  of  intellectual  liberty  —  he  reminds  us  of 
Pegasus  chained  to  the  plough,  fluttering  his  wings, 
and  looking  eagerly  to  the  far  blue  sky,  but  kept 
down  upon  the  earth  by  the  dull  pace  of  the  black 
ox,  to  which  he  was  fastened. 

This  thraldom  was  ended  in  his  twenty-third 
year  by  his  escape  from  Stuttgard,  "empty  in  purse 
and  hope."  For  a  time,  he  wrestled  with  poverty 
and  discouragement ;  but  he  wrestled  with  energy 
that  is  sure  to  overcome  ;  and  he  at  last  received 
his  share  of  the  patronage  so  liberally  bestowed  on 
German  talent.  A  concurrence  of  circumstances 
led  him  to  become  a  dramatic  author  ;  but  he  af- 
terward proved  that  he  was  capable  of  achieving 
greatness  in  any  path  to  which  he  directed  his  at- 
tention. 

His  first  play,  called  the  Robbers,  produced  a 
prodigious  sensation  throughout  Germany  ;  but 
Wallenstein,  written  some  years  after,  is  deemed  his 
greatest  and  most  highly  finished  production.  The 
people  were  proud  of  their  poet,  and  showed  it  with 
a  ready 'and  earnest  enthusiasm,  that  must  have 
gone  to  his  heart.  When  his  Maid  of  Orleans  was 
first  represented  on  the  stage  at  Leipzig,  at  the  close 
of  the  first  act,  there  arose  on  all  sides  a  shout  of, 


80S  MRS   SCHILLER. 

"Long  live  Frederic  Schiller!"  accompanied  by 
the  sound  of  trumpets  and  other  military  music. 

At  the  conclusion,  the  spectators  crowded  round 
the  door  ;  when  the  poet  appeared,  they  uncovered 
their  heads,  and  respectfully  opened  an  avenue  for 
him  to  pass  ;  while  many  held  up  their  children  and 
exclaimed,  "  That  is  he  !  " 

Schiller  was  an  unpretending,  bashful  man  ;  his 
principles  and  his  feelings  alike  forbade  him  to  as- 
sume any  superiority  over  his  fellow  creatures  ;  but 
he  must  have  been  more  than  human,  if  he  were 
not  gratified  by  such  a  tribute  of  respect  bursting 
spontaneously  from  so  many  honest  and  admiring 
hearts. 

Want  of  knowledge,  and  want  of  room,  make  it 
impossible  to  give  in  this  volume  such  a  sketch  of 
this  great  man  as  his  merit  and  his  fame  deserve. 
Of  his  numerous  and  celebrated  works  we  pass  by 
the  greater  part,  without  even  mentioning  the  titles  ; 
and  glance  over  the  events  of  his  life  with  equal 
rapidity.  His  whole  soul  was  in  literature  ;  and 
therefore  his  history  consists  principally  in  progres- 
sive stages  of  intellectual  improvement,  and  extend- 
ing reputation. 

In  a  notice  of  Wieland,  he  has  already  been  men- 
tioned as  one  of  the  stars  in  the  brilliant  constella 
tion  at  Weimar.  His  excellent  parents,  who,  at  one 
time,  had  feared  that  genius  would  ruin  his  pros- 
perity, lived  to  enjoy  the  fame  he  so  well  deserved. 

In  1789  he  was  appointed  by  the  Duchess  Amelia, 
Professor  of  History  at  the  University  of  Jena.  In 


MRS    SCHILLER.  309 

the  February  following  he  married  Miss  Lengefeld, 
with  whom  he  became  acquainted  at  Rudolstadt,  a 
year  or  two  before.  She  was  not  his  first  love  ;  he 
had  previously  declared  an  attachment  for  the 
daughter  of  the  Kammerath  Schwann,  a  bookseller 
at  Manheim  ;  we  are  not  informed  whether  this 
connexion  was  relinquished  from  want  of  constancy, 
or  because  his  affection  was  not  reciprocated.  Cer- 
tain it  is  that  Schiller's  heart  never  ceased  to  yearn 
for  domestic  happiness.  "  To  be  united  with  a  per- 
son," said  he,  "  that  shares  our  joys  and  our  sor- 
rows, that  responds  to  our  feelings,  that  moulds 
herself  so  pliantly,  so  closely  to  our  humors;  re- 
posing on  her  calm  and  warm  affection,  to  relax  our 
spirit  from  a  thousand  distractions,  a  thousand  wild 
wishes  and  tumultuous  passions  ;  to  dream  away  all 
the  bitterness  of  fortune,  in  the  bosom  of  domestic 
enjoyment ;  this  is  the  true  delight  of  life." 

Sometime  after  his  marriage,  he  writes  :  "  Life 
is  quite  a  different  thing  by  the  side  of  a  beloved 
wife,  than  so  forsaken  and  alone ;  even  in  sum- 
mer. Beautiful  Nature !  I  now  for  the  first  time 
fully  enjoy  it,  live  in  it.  The  world  again  clothes 
itself  around  me  in  poetic  forms  ;  old  feelings  are 
again  awakening  in  my  breast.  What  a  life  I  am 
leading  here  !  I  look  with  a  glad  mind  around  me  ; 
my  heart  finds  a  perennial  contentment  without  it ; 
my  spirit  so  fine,  so  refreshing  a  nourishment.  My 
existence  is  settled  in  harmonious  composure  ;  not 
strained  and  impassioned,  but  peaceful  and  clear. 
I  look  to  my  future  destiny  with  a  cheerful  heart. 


310  MRS   SCHILLER. 

Now  when  standing  at  the  wished-for  goal,  I  wonder 
with  myself  how  it  has  all  happened,  so  far  beyond 
my  expectations.  Fate  has  conquered  the  difficul- 
ties for  me  ;  it  has,  I  may  say,  forced  me  to  the  mark. 
From  the  future  I  expect  everything.  A  few  years 
and  I  shall  live  in  the  full  enjoyment  of  my  spirit ; 
nay,  I  think  my  very  youth  will  be  renewed  ;  an 
inward  poetic  life  will  give  it  me  again." 

Of  Schiller's  wife,  but  little  has  been  published. 
We  only  know  that  Gothe,  who  had  known  her 
from  childhood,  speaks  of  her  with  respect  and  re- 
gard ;  and  that  she  inspired  the  author  of  Wallen- 
stein  with  a  deep  and  abiding  passion  ;  but  surely 
this  is  praise  enough  for  mortal  woman. 

When  Gothe  and  Schiller  were  first  introduced, 
their  characters  acted  upon  each  other  with  repel- 
ling power.  Totally  unlike  in  their  habits  of 
thought,  and  wedded  to  different  schools  of  philo- 
sophy, there  seemed  to  be  no  point  where  they 
could  meet  in  harmony.  This  gradually  gave 
place  to  hearty  admiration  of  each  other ;  and  with- 
out sacrificing  their  respective  independence  of 
sentiment  and  opinion,  they  became  warm  friends, 

Gothe,  describing  the  progress  of  their  acquain- 
tance, says,  "  The  first  step  was  now  taken  ; 
Schiller's  attractive  power  was  great ;  he  kept  all 
close  to  him  that  came  within  his  reach.  His  wife, 
whom  I  had  loved  and  valued  since  her  childhood, 
did  her  part  to  strengthen  our  reciprocal  intelli- 
gence ;  all  friends,  on  both  sides,  rejoiced  at  it." 

A  notice  of  Schiller  is  introduced  in  this  volume 


MRS    SCHILLER.  311 

merely  to  show  ho\v  mistaken  is  the  idea  that  genius 
unfits  people  for  the  calm  routine  of  domestic  happi- 
ness :  when  this  greatest  of  all  earthly  blessings  is 
changed  to  a  curse,  the  fault  is  in  the  heart,  not  in 
the  mind. 

Schiller  possessed  genius  in  its  loftiest  attributes 
—  and  he  had  the  temperament  that  usually  accom- 
panies that  heavenly  gift.  Earnest,  impetuous  — 
restless  in  a  world  too  narrow  for  his  spirit  —  with 
a  mind  exulting  in  the  grandeur  of  its  own  vast 
conceptions,  yet  struggling  for  a  more  perfect 
glimpse  of  that  mysterious  beauty,  which  God  has 
veiled  in  clouds  — living  among  magnificent  visions 
of  thought,  and  questioning  them  with  fevered 
earnestness  of  all  that  had  past,  and  of  all  that 
should  come  to  the  soul  of  man  —  such  was  Fred- 
eric Schiller  ! 

The  cares  of  real  life  were  a  heavy  burden  to 
him.  He  says,  "  My  niiud  is  drawn  different,  ways; 
I  fall  headlong  out  of  my  ideal  world,  if  a  hole  in 
my  stocking  remind  me  of  the  actual  world." 

The  customs  of  society  were  fetters  upon  his 
intellectual  freedom  ;  hence  he  was  always  con- 
strained and  ill  at  ease  in  parties. 

To  enjoy  the  "  frenzy  "  of  the  poet  with  more 
intense  consciousness,  he  was  in  the  habit  of  sit- 
ting up  all  night,  in  a  garden-house,  with  a  flask  of 
Rhenish  or  Champaign,  or  a  cup  of  strong  coffee, 
beside  him,  to  refresh  exhausted  nature. 

"  The  neighbors  often  used  to  hear  him  declaim- 
ing earnestly  in  the  silence  of  the  night ;  and  who 


312  MRS    SCHILLER. 

ever  watched  him  on  such  occasions,  (a  thing  easily 
done  from  the  heights  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
dell)  might  see  him  now  speaking  aloud,  and  walk- 
ing swiftly  to  and  fro  in  his  chamber,  then  suddenly 
throwing  himself  down  in  his  chair  and  writing." 

Yet  this  man  of  vivid  and  restless  genius  loved 
his  family  with  deep  and  constant  love.  His  best 
happiness  was  in  his  home.  The  great  world  had 
no  charms  for  him ;  holier  sympathies  nestled 
around  his  heart,  and  brighter  visions  thronged  his 
mind.  The  theatre  was  the  only  public  place  he 
visited ;  and  this  not  for  amusement,  but  for  the 
sake  of  improvement  in  the  dramatic  art. 

In  his  own  family,  or  among  select  friends,  he 
was  affectionate,  eloquent,  and  sportive  as  a  little 
child.  He  had  all  the  frankness  and  simplicity 
which  characterize  the  Germans ;  and  who  can 
say  how  much  of  intellectual  greatness  may  be 
traced  to  these  qualities  ?  Truth  is  power. 

Such  a  man  as  Schiller  could  not  live  to  be  old. 
His  ardent  spirit  burned  away  its  mortal  shrine. 
Incessant  literary  toil,  and  the  unquietness  of  a 
mind  eager  to  penetrate  into  all  the  arcana  of  the 
universe,  brought  on  physical  disease.  In  1791, 
his  physicians  ordered  him  to  abstain  from  intellec- 
tual efforts  if  he  valued  life.  To  one  of  his  indus- 
trious habits,  with  a  cherished  family  depending 
on  his  exertions,  it  was  difficult  to  obey  this  com- 
mand. 

The  Duke  of  Holstein   and  Count  Von  Schim- 


MRS    SCHILLER.  313 

melmann,  being  informed  of  his  ill  health,  conferred 
a  pension  of  a  thousand  crowns,  for  three  years  ; 
upon  the  stipulation  that  he  should  be  careful  of 
himself  and  use  every  means  to  recover. 

The  invalid  was  partially  restored,  and  returned 
with  fresh  vigor  to  his  beloved  occupations  ;  in  the 
glowing  light  of  his  imaginary  world,  weakness  and 
suffering  were  forgotten.  But  the  arrow  of  death 
had  entered  ;  the  body  sunk  under  its  unequal  con- 
flict with  the  soul. 

He  died  in  the  spring  of  1805,  aged  fortyfive 
years  and  some  months.  A  widow,  two  sons,  and 
two  daughters  survived  him.  At  his  request  his 
funeral  was  private  and  unostentatious.  During 
his  last  illness,  physical  suffering  produced  delirium  ; 
but  this  passed  away  ;  and  he  was  enabled  to  take 
a  solemn,  tranquil  farewell  of  the  family,  who  were 
watching  over  him  with  anxious  love.  Being  asked 
how  he  felt,  a  few  hours  before  his  decease,  he  an- 
swered, "  Calmer,  and  calmer."  After  that,  he 
sank  into  a  slumber  ;  from  which  he  awoke,  looked 
up  brightly,  and  said,  "  Many  things  arc  groiving 
clear  lo  me!"  Then  a  gentle  sleep  came  over  him, 
which  gradually  deepened  into  eternal  silence. 

His  mighty  spirit  has  learned  the  mystery  of  its 
own  existence. 


The  ancients  believed  that  when  a  remarkably 
good  wife  died,  Proserpine  sent  a  procession  of  the 
purest  and  best  spirits  to  welcome  her  to  another 
world,  and  sirew  the  way  to  Elysium  with  flowers. 


FINIS. 


LIST    OF    BOOKS    REFEKRED    TO. 

Thatcher's  Military  Journal. 

Lady's  Museum. 

Classical  Dictionary. 

Pulteney's  Sketches  of  the  progress  of  Botany  in  England. 

Lives  of  Painters  and  Sculptors,  by  Allen  Cunningham. 

Bayle's  Biographical  Dictionary. 

Plutarch's  Lives. 

Memoirs  of  Lord  Collingwood. 

Miss  Aikin's  Court  of  King  James. 

Biographic  Universelle. 

Dictionnaire  Historique. 

Memoirs  of  Lady  Fanshawe,  written  by  herself. 4 

Memoirs  of  Mrs  Fletcher,  wife  of  Rev.  John  Fletcher. 

Aikin's  Universal  Biography. 

Brown's  Life  of  Howard. 

Silliman's  Scientific  Journal. 

Athenaeum. 

Memoirs  of  Col.  John  Hutchinson,  by  his  widow. 

Edinburgh  Review. 

Memoirs   of  Mrs  Judson,  by  Rev.  J.  D.  Knowles. 

Lavater's  Private  Journal. 

Memoirs  of  Lavalette. 


316          LIST    OF     BOOKS    REFERRED    TO. 

Count  Segur's  Anecdotes  of  Frederic. 

Bower's  Life  of  Luther. 

Tischer's  Life  of  Luther. 

Luther's  Table  Talk. 

Memoir's  of  Oberlin,  Edited  by  Rev.  H.  Ware,  Jr. 

Zenephon's  Cyropoedia. 

Johann  Jacob  Reiskens.  von  ihm  selbst  aufgesetzte  Le- 
bensbeschreibung. 

Monthly  Anthology. 

Oratorum  Graecorum.  Volumen  Primum.  Edidit  J.  J. 
Reiske. 

Funeral  Oration  on  Dr  Spurzheim,  by  Dr  Follen. 

Taylor's  Historic  Survey  of  German  Poetry. 

Winthrop's  History  of  N.  England,  Edited  by  James  Sav- 
age, Esq. 

Life  of  Frederic  Schiller. 


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